
/ <&\*\S*~& S^TU-VA-^f 






u 



QUAD'S ODDS;" 



BY 



"M. QUAD, THE DETROIT FREE PRESS MAN." 

ANECDOTE, HUMOR AND PATHOS. 

AND OTHER THINGS. 

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 

A BOOK 

NEVER OFFERED THE PUBLIC BEFORE. 



EACH COPT GUARANTEED FULL WEIGHT. 



DETROIT: 
R. D. S. TYLER & CO., PUBLISHERS. 



SAN' FRANCISCO, CAL....A. L. BANCROFT * CO 

BOSTON IIKNRY L. SHXFABD k CO. 

CHICAGO H H. NATT It CO. 

INDIANAPOLIS (for S. lad.).. . . FRED. L. HORTos. 

ST. LOUIS, MO SAM J. JTTNKIN. 

DENVER, COL H. L. THAYER k. CO. 



ROCHESTER (for W.N. Y).... JOHN J McfiOWAN. 

ATLANTA, OA M. P. THOMPSON. 

PHILADELPHIA H. N. McKINNEY b CO. 

NEW YORK F. 8. BOQUE, 67K Broadway. 

OSWEGO (OntrRl N. Y.)...KRED. H. TYLER 4 CO. 
LEAVENWORTH. KAN A. T. CA.NFLELD. 



TORONTO, ONT BELFOKD BROS. 



Free Puess Boos and Jou Printing House. 

1875. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, A. D. 1375, 

By CHARLES B. LEWIS, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



Illustrated by L. H. Crumb. 



Wood & Rand, Elcctrotypers. 
Bound by E. B. Smith & Co. 



TO 

g/^ f amn<M %ribe, of §ndian$, 

WITH 

EARNEST CONGRATULATIONS 

UPON THEIR SUCCESS IN ESCAPING THUS FAR THE SERIES OF EVILS 

FOLLOWING IN THE SHADOW OF THE LIGHTNING-ROD SELLER, 

THE CHROMO PEDDLER, AND THE TAX COLLECTOR, 

AND TRULY HOPING FOR AN IMMEDIATE 

MORAL IMPROVEMENT, 

IS 

THIS VOLUME 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY 

TEE AJJTEOB. 



THE PAWNEES. 



Pawnee Indian Agency, 1 

Genoa, Neb., 8th. mo., 11, 1875. J 

C. B. Lewis, 

Respected Friend: 

I observed a brief notice in one 
of the Omaha papers recently of a" forthcoming book " 
of yours, to be dedicated to the " Pawnee Tribe of Indi- 
ans," etc., but whether a joke or a reality, from the vein of 
remark I could not tell. If you have written or are about 
to publish anything having a bearing on our tribe I trust 
you will be kind enough to inform me how I can procure 
it, as I am collecting facts and statistics on Indian affairs. 
The Pawnees have selected a new Reservation on Indian 
Territory, and the major portion of the tribe are there — 
the balance will probably be removed thither before winter. 
On the new Reservation they will soon live in houses, and 
will have allotments of land from winch to subsist them- 
selves, with a little aid. Many of the tribe are now faith- 
ful workers, and they are now not only peaceably disposed 
towards the whites, but their status has considerably 
advanced over what it was ten years ago — that is, in the 
tendency towards civilization. I simply refer to these 
things on the supposition that you have some knowledge 
of the tribe or interest in their welfare and progress. 

Yours respectfully, 

WM. BURGESS, 

U. S. Ind. Agt. for Pa-wnees. 
VI 



DEDICATORY. 



§jypT was the author's solemn intention at the outset to 
dedicate this book to some newspaper man — Gregory, 
Piatt, Griswold, "Watterson, Bayard, Waterloo, Sey- 
mour, Bailey, Swineford, Wood — to some particular one 
of the coterie who use the pen more than the scissors, and 
whose original work sustains the reputation of the Ameri- 
can press for brilliancy. This was his intention, but when 
nearly five hundred newspapers, each saying a kind word 
for the book, had reached his table, it was plain that such 
a dedication would be ruled out of order. Being under 
obligations to the Pawnee Indians for many private rea- 
sons, and hoping to push the sale of the book among such 
tribes as love to sit down and read, or hold spelling-bees, 
in preference to hunting around for scalps, the author pre- 
vailed upon himself to write such a dedication as the 
reader has found. 

VII 



EXPLANATORY. 



T*^7HEIE1^ a person sets out to publish a book, it is bis 
;£/ purpose to publish a book free from typographical 
er*rors, containing line illustrations, if any at all, and to 
be careful that no bad grammar or second-class English 
can be found by the reader. I set out to do this same 
tiling, but after overhauling two or three hundred works 
by various authors I saw that a perfect book was monoto- 
nous. The reader got tired of seeing page after page with- 
out an error, and cut after cut which he had to pronounce 
fine. There is bad grammar in this book. There is faulty 
English. There are typographical errors. We might as 
well have had fine illustrations all through, but we didn't 
want them. There are cuts in this book which any car- 
penter could improve, but they were made thus to vary the 
monotony. I offered to cut some illustrations out with an 
axe, but the engraver said he could beat me on bad ones, 
and I think lie lias. There may be some articles in the 
book worth saving to read again, but I know that I 
wouldn't read one of them twice if I could help it. The 
covers are, I believe, all right, and the weight is here, 
while the publisher means to sell as many volumes as he 
can. 

If any journalist, after reading this book, stands up and 
remarks that I am no humorist, I have a hundred witnesses 
who will swear that I never claimed to be. 

IX 



X EXPLANATORY. 

Three hundred pages of the book never saw print before. 
The remainder is made up of my sketches in the Detroit 
Free Press, Hearth and Home, Fireside Friend, ISTew 
York "Weekly, Cleveland Pictorial World, and two or 
three daily papers. I admit beforehand what any critic 
shall say, and will cheerfully receive all postal cards 
inquiring why I made such a failure of my portion, and 
where my engraver can be found by a mob. 

Very truly, 

C. B. LEWIS. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

Up Among the Splinters 17 

Little Tom 23 

The Book Agent 27 

His Ancestry 30 

Bijah 33 

Depressions 35 

\ Going to Pic-nics 41 

' ' Primrose " 45 

The Hoodlum 48 

There were Bugs There 51 

A Sad Song .... 55 

The Old Fireman 57 

She Had a Heart After All 62 

Keeping the Boy in Nights 65 

Executin' the Law ' 69 

Under the Gas Lamp 74 

Man who Advertised 77 

He Goes West 80 

The Fourth Story 85 

Having the Toothache 88 

Some Indian Relics 91 

On the Coroner's Jury 95 

That Smith Boy 98 

That Insurance Agent 101 

Jack's Boy 104 

xi 



Xll CONTENTS. 

A Particular Girl 108 

Brigham Young's "Wife 110 

The Boys Around the House 114 

Debating Society at Black Wolf 117 

Going to Funerals 121 

How the Mate Died 124 

Enoch Arden 127 

An Hour at the Central Station Court 131 

The Eureky Bat Trap . ! 135 

' The Head Writer 139 

Mrs. Dolson's Ailments 144 

Confession of a Murderer - . 147 

The Perkins Baby 150 

How a Woman Makes a Bed 154 

1 ' Brixs " 156 

The Last Warrior 159 

Refrigerators 162 

How a Woman Splits Wood 165 

Fat Folks , 168 

Epitaphs and Such 170 

Girl Wanted 173 

The Proof Reader 176 

Jorks, Ex-Philanthropist 178 

Only an Ohio Man 181 

A Careful Man 182 

His Time for Fiddling 185 

Topsy Tumble 188 

The First House in Michigan 191 

How a Woman Reads a Letter 195 

"An Hour " 198 

The Lady we all Fear 202 

A Determined Young Man 205 

A Pioneer Justice 206 



CONTENTS. Xlll 

" Two-Dollar" 210 

John Cain 212 

It was in Indiana 21C 

His Early Loves 218 

He Said Cuss 222 

In the Chimney Corner 225 

Christopher Columbus McPherson 227 

The Solemn Book Agent 230 

"An Hour " 233 

A Bribe 238 

John Bloss, Miner 239 

She was a Motherly Old Lady 242 

What a Child Saw 240 

Old Frisket 219 

" R-a-g-s " 25;; 

The Mother's Friend 255 

Getting a Photograph 259 

The Figures 261 

Some New Views in the Yosemite 262 

A Philosopher 26G 

Training up a Boy 273 

N Canvassing for the Washington Monument 273 

\ Legend of a Baggage Smasher 277 

That Hired Girl 281 

"An Hour " . 28;; 

Seeing the Menagerie 288 

What Three Women Said 293 

Jackson Green 296 

^ Niagara Falls 299 

Of Course He Did 302 

An Abused Book 303 

"An Hour " 300 

"Ap-u-l-s " 311 



XIV CONTENTS. 

Chipmunk 814 

Let Us Alone 318 

Death of Captain Cook '. 320 

Thomas Toms, Deceased 323 

J. Brown, Deceased 326 

Mrs. Briggs, Martyr 331 

He Felt Dollarous 335 

How to Act in Case of Fire 336 

The Colonel's Letter 339 

The Ball at "Widow McGee's 342 

The Summer Vacation 344 

The Indian Question 347 

"An Hour " 349 

Jeems 354 

Some Bald-headed Men 356 

The Last Coach 360 

Mr. Leon St. Johns 362 

That Emerson Boy 366 

The Woman with the Poetry 369 

The Self-made Men of Detroit 373 

The Late Artemus Ward's Warm Friends 377 

The Bad Boy 379 

The Good Boy 384 

Cleaning House 388 

Patent No. 249,826 392 

Partiality 395 

The Old Pioneer 398 

Getting the Hair Cut 402 

The Fat Man in Chicago 405 

True Love 410 

Ye Old Schoolmaster 411 

Ugly Greg 41 1 

Our Boys 418 



INDEX. XV 

Professor of Botany 421 

Their Spelling Bee 426 

Barnaby's Boy and Old Jack 429 

A Few Great Men 433 

Our French. Engraver 438 

The Darwin Theory 441 

On the Night Breeze 444 

Those Circus Bills • 449 

Old Sol 454 

A Lone Hand 457 

Moral Courage 459 

The O'Lone Invention 462 

Sick Man 465 

McGrady's Base Trick 470 

As the Pigeon Flies 474 

Some Sad Thoughts 479 



UP AMONG THE SPLINTERS. 



WAS going up to Maysville, Kentucky', to take a 
"sit" on the Bulletin, and of course I took the 
steamer Magnolia, after reaching Cincinnati, in pref- 
erence to all others. She was a tidy-looking boat, and her 
head clerk wore a diamond pin. He was the first steam- 
boat clerk I had ever seen fastened to a $600 diamond, and 



I was determined to go on that boat if it killed me. 




Business Aloft. 



A runner for a rival boat assured me that the Magnolia 
would blow up, while his boat would slide up the river like 
grease, but the diamond pin decided me. 
b 17 



18 THE INTERRUPTION. 

" Good-bye, my white-haired rural friend !" sorrowfully 
exclaimed the rival runner as he turned away, and I never 
saw him again. Our paths diverged right there. Mine 
went skyward, and he went off and fell down a hatchway 
and was killed. 

After the steamer left the wharf-boat I sat down in the 
cabin and listened, with others, while a fat man from 
Illinois read four or five columns of the impeachment trial 
of Andy Johnson. Throwing the paper down he said : 

" Gentlemen, it seems to me " 

lie stopped right there. He couldn't go on. The boil- 
ers exploded just then, and we had business aloft. I don't 
exactly remember who went up first, or how we got 
through the roof. I am a little absent-minded sometimes, 
and this was one of the times. 

The boilers made a great deal more noise than there 
seemed any occasion for. The explosion would have been 
A 1 with half the whizzing, grinding and tearing. One 
of the men who came up behind me seemed to think that 
something or other was out of order, and he yelled out 
to me : 

" Say ! what's all this ?" 

I pointed to the fat man, who was about five feet ahead 
of me, and then I began to practice gymnastics. I went 
up a few feet right end up, then a few feet more wrong 
end up, and then I wasn't particular which way I went up. 
The golden eagle off the pilot-house sailed around our 
heads, and it was a fine chance for the fat man to get off a 
handsome eulogy on the proud bird of freedom. He didn't 
do it, however. One of his ears had been torn off, a leg 
broken, and flying timbers kept pegging him every minute. 
I wanted to ask him to finish the remark he commenced 
in the cabin, but he seemed so cast-down and discouraged 
ifhat I hadn't the heart to speak. 



EQUAL RIGHTS. 



19 



We finally arrived there. It was a good ways up, and 
the route had several little inconveniences. It was a grand 
location from which to view the surrounding country, but 
we didn't stop to view it. We had business below, and 
our motto was business before pleasure. 




Business Below. 



Somehow, I got mixed up with the fat man, and we 
couldn't hardly tell which was which. He made no com- 
plaints, and I didn't care, and so we got aloijg very well 
together until we struck the water. When w r c went down 
to look for bottom we let go of each other. He staid 
down there and I came up. A number of others also came 
up about that time. One man got hold of a door and 
warned us that he was a member of the Legislature, and 
must therefore be saved, but we held a mass convention 
and decided that the Constitution of the United States 
guaranteed equal rights to all men, and we crowded him 
along. 

As the door wouldn't float over ten or twelve, a half- 
dozen of us got hold of brooms, foot-stools, dusters, and 



20 



IN FULL DRESS. 



so forth, and compared notes. A six-footer from Missouri 
was rushing around with a boot-jack in one hand, a table- 
cloth in the other, and a look of anxiety on his face. As 
he floated near me he called out : 

" Young man, where are we going?'' 

I called back that I was a stranger in that locality, and 
couldn't say whether we'd bring up in New Orleans or 
Fort Leavenworth. 

I finally got hold of the dining table, to which a red- 
headed woman from St. Louis was clinging. As I caught 
the table she exclaimed : 

" Go away, young man — go away !" 





No Time to be Captious. 



I replied that the state of her toilet needn't confuse her 
in the least. Her dress-skirt had been blown off, her hair 
singed, and part of her hoop-skirt was over her head, but 
I warned her that it was about an even thing. The band 
of my shirt was still buttoned around my neck, and I had 
one boot on, and it was no time to be captious. I remarked 



TUB CAPTAIN S DOG. 



21 



to her that her nose was broken and several of her teeth 
were gone, but she fired up and said I'd better " look to 
home," as I had one eve ruined, a hole in my head, and was 
cooked in a dozen places. 

Before I could learn much of her history we were drawn 
to the bank and taken off. I called out for a breadth of 
rag carpet to make me a toga of, but no one would bring 
it, and I had to faint away to avoid hearing any criticisms 
from the crowd. 

When I came to, a dozen of us were piled up together, 
and the captain of the boat was making a speech. He 




The Captain Apologized to Us. 

said it wasn't his fault, and that we mustn't feel hard 
toward him. He had lost a fine dog by the accident, and 
he couldn't bear any further burden just then. He said 
that boats often blew up without apparent reason, but if 
he could ever ascertain the reason of this blow-up he would 
send us the particulars. Ee Beemed like an honest-hearted 
man, and we felt sorry over the loss of his dog. 



22 THE FAT MAN STILL THERE. 

When we got down to Cincinnati a policeman asked me 
if it made any difference to me where I was buried, and 
they sent me to the hospital until I could make up my 
mind. The hole in my head got to aching about that time, 
and the last I remember was hearing a man with a coarse 
voice call out : 

" Tell Jim to get a box ready for this corpse !" 

Sixteen days after that I got my senses back, and for the 
succeeding six weeks had a very easy time. The coroner 
dropped in once a day to see if I still persisted in living ; 
six daily reporters included me in their round ; the doctors 
worked at the hole in my head and at my burns by turns, 
and after three months they came to the conclusion that I 
would live. Such little side issues as pneumonia, blind- 
ness, proud flesh and fever were not supposed to have any 
bearing on the main question. 

It isn't good to be blown up. There are better ways of 
ascending and descending. Such things interrupt travel- 
ing programmes, and are often the foundation of funeral 
processions. I met the red-headed woman about a year 
ago, and she was quite friendly, but the fat man hasn't been 
heard of since. I fear that some of the machinery of the 
boat got into his pockets and held him down. 





it m 

™1 MS 



"LITTLE TOM." 




?IS step was unsteady and his 
hands trembled, and there 
was that unmeaning look 
in his eves which conies 
when rum has benumbed 
the brain. 

Not thus for once, but 
it was the same day after 
day, and we who had 
known him for years and years — who knew his tender 
heart and his many noble traits — grew sad and sought to 
pull him away from the gulf toward which his footsteps 
tended. He listened and promised. He knew that degra- 
dation and disgrace were before him, and he made a gal- 
lant struggle to walk in better paths. 

We were made glad then. The human heart never beats 
so proudly as when it has sympathized with and encour- 
aged another heart to do right. We did not taunt him 
with his failings, and thereby inflict scars which kind 
words would be long effacing ; we did not let him know 
that we feared Temptation would overrule his desire to do 
right, but we trusted him. 

The tempter waited for him at every turn, clothed in 
pleasant garb and wearing winning smiles. The tempter 

23 



24 CLINGING AND HOPING. 

flattered him, praised him, ridiculed his good resolutions, 
and we were not there to plead our cause. He came back 
to us one night with that vacant stare and halting step, 
and we wondered if there was anything which could 
strengthen his manhood and arm him to resist those ene- 
mies who believed themselves true friends, while they bound 
him with chains which held him down. 

He promised again and again — promised meaning to be 
true, but coming back to us with that terrible, hopeless 
look which strong drink paints on the face of him marked 
for a grave over which no eye grows dim, and on which no 
tear of love or sorrow ever falls. At last we gave him 
up, and we looked upon him as a once stalwart pine whose 
roots had been loosened by a mighty flood, and which now 
swayed and trembled, ready to fall, yet having something 
to prevent the crash for a little time. We had clung to 
him while there was hope — we waited and watched and 
kept our hearts open when hope had fled away, and men 
wondered that his grave was not waiting for him. 

Little Tom ! Strange that we should have forgotten 
him ! And yet we had not, for we knew that many times 
and oft his childish words had cut the father's heart and 
thrilled his soul more than any words of ours — more than 
the prayers and tears of a fond wife or a gray-haired 
mother. When he had forgotten us who had labored with 
him like brothers — when the memories of home and child- 
hood no longer had a lodging place in his heart — when 
manhood had been left groveling in the dust, then one 
mightier than man came to help us. Our tears fell, and 
yet we knew not whether to grieve or rejoice. 

He sat at his table, the dim gas-light casting strange 
shadows over his bowed head. We had seen him thus so 
often that we could only pity. Unnerved, unstrung — 
floating out into the creat wide ocean wherein wretched 



death's shadows. 25 

souls are being tossed and driven about with not one ray 
of hope to break the awful gloom — no wonder that his 
pencil was idle and his light dim. 

A step on the stairs. It had a sound so unfamiliar that 
we raised our heads and looked at each other in a startled 
way and waited. Step ! step ! it came nearer, and we rose 
up as a figure stood in the door — a figure with face so 
white and look so wild that we could not speak. She saw 
the form at the table, and she bent over it and almost 
shrieked : 

" Come home ! Little Tom is dying !" 

The words roused him. He looked from her to us, and 
back, in a bewildered way, and she wailed : 

" Little Tom's been dying all day ! He wants you to 
hold him once more !" 

The words drove his weakness away in a moment, and 
the bewildered look was replaced by one of such fear and 
remorse and anxiety as no human face may ever wear 
again. AVe went with them, for Little Tom's rosy face 
and happy voice had won him a place in our hearts. Seem- 
ing not to feel the earth he trod upon, nor to know 
whether it was broad day or solemn midnight, the father 
hastened on, and he was there before us. 

''Little Tom! speak to me — it's father!" he wailed as 
he clasped the dying boy in his arms, while the mother 
knelt by the empty crib and prayed God that her desolate 
hearthstone should not be further overshadowed. 

"Father!" whispered the child as he unclosed his eyes 
and put death away for a brief space. 

" Tom ! oh ! my Tom !" sobbed the lather. 

" I w T anted you to hold me!" whispered Tom — " I w r anted 
you to kiss me !" 

'•' Leave my boy — leave me one thing to love !" prayed 
the mother. 



26 



AND WE REJOICE. 



" I cannot let him go — he must not die !" sobbed the 
father. 

11 Kiss Little Tom!" whispered the child — "hold me 
tight — I cannot see father !" 

We grieved with them. The heart knows no grief like 
that grief which swells it when death stills a little voice 
and folds little white hands over a heart which never had 
an evil thought. We grieved then, but as the days went 
by and the weeks made months, we rejoiced. Our friend 
grew strong and noble and manly again. The cup of bit- 
ter degradation was dashed to earth, and he was strong as 
a lion to do right and resist temptation. 

So he stands to-day, and though we know that grief has 
dimned his sunshine, and that his heart will pain and swell 
as he remembers the little grave whose mantle of grass is 
nourished by a mother's tears, we thank God that Little 
Tom is with the ano-els. 




THE BOOK AGENT. 








He or she will call on 
you to sell you this book. 
He may be a pale-faced young 
man, standing; on the verge of the 
h:/ grave, as it were, or she may be an inter- 
esting young lady with freckles on her 
nose and a forlorn look. 
Do not be deceived. They will have a 
s deceptive story at their tongue's end, and 
'$& as they corner you they will get off something 
1 like this: 
" Let me put your name down for this book — best book- 
published for years — selling like hot cakes — first edition 

27 



28 WHITE IT THERE. 

exhausted in twenty-four minutes — author known all over 
the country — orders being received from China, Japan, 
Madagascar and the Cape of Good Hope — sold only by 
subscription — write it right there on that line." 

Do not rush your name down without pausing for a sec- 
ond sober thought. It would be more prudent to sit down 
and cross-examine the agent a little and ascertain if you 
would not be encouraging an unworthy person by signing 
your name. Ask him such questions as these : 

"Are you a Mormon?" 

" Do you admire Sixteen-String-Jack ?" 

" Do you intend to buy tomahawks and scalping-knives 
for the Indians with your profits ?" 

" How many of your relatives have been tried for 
murder ?" 

He or she will endeavor to evade you by smiling and 
saying : 

" Come, now — got names of best citizens in town on my 
books — five hundred pages — piles of pictures — beautifully 
bound — fun and pathos — author's first book — money 
couldn't hire him to write another." 

Tell him or her to be calm and not talk too much. 
Remind him or her of the fact that silence is golden. 
Remark that three dollars doesn't stick up behind every 
log, and freely express your opinion that twenty better 
books are offered you every week in the year. 

Book agents stick to their game like a burr to a boy's 
heel, and he or she will preserve a pleasant face and reply : 

" Well, write your name there — book ready for delivery 
in thirty days — sold forty yesterday — beats Martin Tap- 
per's Proverbial Philosophy all to pieces." 

If the agent is in a hurry let him go. Don't be forced 
into committing a rash act on account of his impatience. 
New books appear almost daily. You can get one any- 



A WARNING. 29 

where, on any terms, and treating of any subject. Ask 
him some more questions : 

" Are there any pirate stories in this book ?" 

" Does it say anything about Susan B. Anthony ?" 

" Does it discuss the Beecher scandal ?" 

" Is it a book which an innocent-minded child two years 
old can safely peruse V 

The agent will squirm, but you must pin him. His busi- 
ness is to sell, and he'll get as many copies on to unsuspect- 
ing and confiding people as he can. 

Book agents have worn holes in my front door-steps ; 
they have unhinged my gate ; they have roused me from 
sleep, and have trailed me up and down and hung to me 
until I could offer no further objections. I warn the pub- 
lic against harboring or trusting them on my account. 




HIS ANCESTRY. 



OME people arc always taking on about their ances- 
tors, and going to trouble and expense to prove that 
some of their family knew all about Christopher Columbus, 
shook hands with King Solomon, or got down to Noah's 
ark two minutes too late for a passage. In fact, I used to 
be of this class. I had an idea that if I could get back 
to the beginning of the Quad family I should find some- 
thing decidedly rich. A very nice man in New York sent 
me a letter, one day, saying that he had heard of my desire, 
and for a hundred dollars would trace my genealogy back 
to the year one. I closed the bargain, and in three months 
he sent me the partial result of his efforts, saying that if I 
wanted any more to let him know. He commenced and 
gave the names in regular succession : 

"John Quad. — This old chap is your 
head-center. He was three hundred 
years old at the time of the flood, and 
worth a great many millions of dol- 
lars, all of which was invested in pine 
lumber, and was consequently carried 
down stream when the rain came. 
He is the first one recorded as pick- 
ing up stray horses belonging to some one else, and would 
have been hung if the water hadn't drowned him in his 
cell. I wouldn't advise you to say anything about this 

30 




SECOND AND Tlllltl). 



31 




member of the family, as some of your neighbors' ances- 
tors might have been on the jury which convicted him." 
" Philip Quad. — I first find him mentioned in Cromwell's 
time, and he is the seventeenth son 
of a Quad still further back, of 
whom I can get no reliable trace, 
owing to his having to slide out of 
a town between two days, riiilip 
originated the ' freight-bill ' game, 
had his head shaved three times, 
and was possessed of only one re- 
deeming feature — he wouldn't run for office. As a friend, 
I wouldn't advise you to say anything about him either. 
I think he was shot while stealing chickens, but am not 
certain. I have, however, put it down that way, but you 
can alter it to ' burglary ' if you choose." 

" Samuel Quad. — I get trace of him during the voyage of 
Columbus to America. He 
was very anxious to come along 
with Chris, but circumstances 
over which he had no control 
detained him. He, however, 
came over afterwards — about 
the time that the Spaniards got 
to banishing their malefactors 
to America. Of course, I don't mm-. ^sS^' 

presume to dictate, but I think 
I wouldn't mention Samuel, if 
I were you, as people will talk." 

"Horatio Quad. — This man was a very active member of 
your family. He could break out of jail as fast as they 
could get him in. I first strike him during the palmy days 
of old Rome. He was a roamun to the back bone, and 
traveled almost everywhere. He had the honor of being 




32 



FOURTH AND FIFTH. 




acquainted with the chief of police, deputy Roman marshal, 
the constables of the Tenth Ward, and started the first 
' sweat hoard ' ever seen in the town. He didn't live to 
witness the decay of the Roman Empire, owing to a little 
affair in the jail court-yard. I don't 
recollect the name of the sheriff who 
officiated, or what the dying confes- 
sion of your relative was, but I 
know that the papers said it was a 
clear case that he ' croked ' Jim 
Swan for his ' sugar.' Of course, 
you are there and I am here, and it 
wouldn't look well for a stranger to 
advise ; but still, if you shouldn't 
say anything about Horatio, it would 
perhaps be just as well." 

" Python Quad — Lived in the days of Faro and Keno, and 
was a very able man. If he was alive to-day, and living 
in New York, the detectives would 
feel in duty bound to follow him 
around town, to see that he didn't 
get lost. I don't know how many 
banks he * cracked,' or what he did 
with the plate stolen from those 
thirteen churches, or how the vigi- 
lance committee knew him to be the 
man who stole Sam Burton's mule. 
There are things in your family record which a stranger 
has no business with, particularly an honest stranger. If 
you want the four hundred and sixty-three other Quads 
who lived before you, I shall be happy to go on with the 
names and leading; eccentricities." 





( <gIJ~JLlI. " 




"BIJAH." 



name is Bijah — plain Bijah. 

Years and years ago they might have 
called him Abijah, but the name was too 
stiff and dignified for one with such a big 
heart, and people shortened it. 

"When we like a man we just give him 
a familiar name — something which brings 
us closer to him as we pronounce it. 
"Abijah" signified nothing — "Bijah" sig- 
nifies charity, sympathy, big-hearteclness — all that we can 
look for in one whose every day life has been a battle with 
want and toil and trouble, and whose rough points were 
never polished by contact with education. 

Everybody knows him — knows him as old and gray and 
nearing the long sleep of death, but growing more tender- 
hearted every day towards the sorrowing child, the unfor- 
tunate man and the down-trodden and erring woman. 
Who has given more from his lean purse to keep the wolf 
from the door? Who has been more kind in heart and 
word to those who were recklessly driving to destruction 
for want of a kind word to give them new resolution and 
new fai'h ? Who has taken more steps to restore the lost 
child — co guide the stranger aright — to keep those who 
might c n, in the straight and narrow path? 
And for this we love him. 
.c 33 



34 MAY HE BE FORGIVEN. 

We forget his few faults by remembering bis many noble 
traits, and we do not wait until death has closed his eyes 
and stilled his big heart before we say that the world would 
have more sunshine, and life's battle could be better fought, 
if there were more like Bijah. 

We think it passing strange as we look at his snowy 
locks and wrinkled visage that one who was cast afloat on 
the sea of life when but a child, and who has drifted here 
and there at the will of every gale, should have preserved 
such sympathy in his look and such a kind heart and ten- 
der feeling. God made him so — meant that in his humble 
sphere he should make sad hearts glad, and stand as a bul- 
wark to ward off woe and misery from those whom the 
burden might crush down. 

He is widowed and childless. Death has passed Urn by, 
but made his heart sore and sad often and again, and now 
in his old age he stands alone. If God had not given him 
such charity and sympathy he would pause sometimes and 
give up the struggle, but he has a mission and he cannot 
halt until death rises up in his path and will not be turned 
aside. He has lived among us so long that to us will come 
the sad duty of closing his eyes and folding the cold hands 
across the bosom in which death found a resting place at 
last. Tears will fall as men and women and children 
know that he is dead — such tears as come when the heart 
swells with deep sorrow. They will place flowers on the 
coffin, and as it rests before the altar they will listen to 
hear it said : 

" We knew him as one whose good deeds and kind 
words made us all better-hearted." 

And we shall hope that the angels forgave his sins and 
remembered nothing but his big heart. 



DEPRESSIONS. 



ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR. 



"WAS looking over some of the battle-fields of the 
Revolutionary war a few weeks ago. It is enough to 
sadden the heart of any sutler to wander over those 

historic fields and hear the explanations of the guides. 

One conies away feeling as if he would like to wrap an 

American flag around him and be knocked down ten or 

fifteen times in the name of Liberty. 




Spot Where Warren Fell. 

I started out before breakfast with an old farmer to see 
the spot where Warren fell. We climbed several fences, 
worried through a marsh, and as we finally turned the cor- 
ner of an old barn the farmer waved his hand and said : 

"Behold the spot!" 

35 



36 THE SECOND FALL. 

There it was, sure enough, looking as fresh and healthy 
as if a hundred years had not beaten a constant tattoo upon 
it. In the midst of a small field, a romantic-looking old 
barn in the distance, was the depression. 

" Did he fall from his horse, or from a balloon ?" I asked 
the guide, but he replied that he couldn't say. It had 
been some little time since the war, and he had forgotten. 

" Struck on his head, I suppose ?" I remarked as I 
raised up to get a clearer view of the spot. 

The old man said he didn't know about that; never 
heard any one say. 

" But see here," I said as I leaned back ; " how dare you 
call yourself a guide and charge me fifty cents when you 
know nothing of the history of this spot ?" 

" "Waal, all I know is that this is the spot where Gineral 
Warren fell," he replied, and it was useless to ask him 
further questions. 

I don't wonder that it killed the General — the stack was 
torn up in an awful manner. 

Two or three days after that I crossed the fields with a 
farmer's son to look upon the spot where Colonel Bligh 
fell. Never having read that Colonel Bligh took any part 
in the Patriot war, I should have missed the historic spot 
had I not halted at the farm-house to get a drink of water. 
The young man said that his great grandfather was a cap- 
tain in the - Patriot army, but was in poor health a great 
share of the time and only killed six hundred and twenty- 
eight Britishers during the seven years, averaging but 
eighty-nine soldiers and five-eighths of another per year. 

" There's the spot," said the young man as we were 
mounting a five-rail fence. 

" Where V 

" Right over around here somewhere," he answered, 
waving his hand. 



THE THIRD FALL. 



37 




" Was it on the marsh, under it, or around that sheep- 
pen ?" I inquired, giving him a severe look. 

" Yes, I guess it was," he replied. 
I stood there and sighed and felt 
sad. It is a hard thing to have a 
musket-ball bore a tunnel through 
a Colonel while lighting for liberty 
and a fat salary, and more melan- 
choly still to have straw-stacks and 
sheep-pens erected over the spot 
where he poured out his blood for 
his country. 

" "Were you here when the battle 
the colonels fall. occurred ?" I asked of the young man 
as I handed him the fifty cents fee. 

" Yes — hoeing corn over in that lot !" he promptly 
replied. 

" And did the fighting disturb you any ?" 
" Nawt much. I put in a usual day's work." 
I looked at him and longed to call him a stupendous 
liar, but I reflected that he lied in the cause of liberty and 
unity, and therefore held my peace. When we reached 
the house I asked the young man's mother what the name 
of the battle-field was, and she replied that she couldn't 
exactly remember, but thought it was "Astronomy," or 
some such high-sounding name. 

A few days after that the landlord of a country tavern 
sent his hostler to show me the spot where General Colby 
fell. We climbed fences, waded a creek and fell over logs, 
and finally halted near an old cider-mill. 

"There, sir, we've got to the spot," said the hostler, 
throwing away a quid of tobacco which must have cost 
him fifteen or twenty cents. 

" Where is the spot ?" I demanded. 



38 



THE FOUKTH FALL. 



" Right around here," he replied. 

When he found that wouldn't do, and that he had got 
to come to time, he looked around and found the exact 
spot. A large hog had taken possession of the cavity, and 
I begged of the guide not to disturb the porker, which 
could be nothing less that a patriotic hog. 




The Spot Where Colby Fell. 

" You are sure that's the spot ?" I asked. 

" Oh, I know it — I know it !" he replied. 

" "What made General Colby fall there ?" I continued ; 
" why didn't he go down to the tavern and fall on a bed ?" 

" I never asked any one," returned the guide ; " all I 
know is that he fell there." 

" Did he stub his toe ?" 

" Dunno — never axed 'urn." 

"Was he stealing water-melons, hunting coons or 
making cider ?" I inquired as we started to return. 

" Less see !" he mused, shutting one eye and feeling for 
the top-rail of the fence — " I'll be durnmed 'f I can remem- 



THE FIFTH FALL. 



39 



ber, though it seems as if I heard a feller say there was a 
fight here, or sunthin' or other." 

The next day I was a hundred miles away, looking at 
the spot where Captain Sullivan fell. I hired a horse and 
buggy at a little village and drove over to the spot with a 
man who was selling township rights to manufacture a 
patent clothes-wringer. A farmer who saw us crossing his 
orchard came out to meet us in the name of Liberty and 
exact a fee of fifty cents each. If he hadn't been at home 
we should have missed the spot altogether, as a scarecrow 
had been placed there to keep the birds out of the cherry 
trees just over the fence. 







Spot Where Sullivan Fell. 

" Are you sure that this is the identical spot where Cap- 
tain Sullivan fell ?" I asked. 

" Nobody but a traitor will doubt it," replied the farmer. 

" And was he killed ?" 

" They say he was." 

" Hit by a bullet or struck by a brick-bat ?" 

" I dunno." 



40 FALLING AWAY. 

" Did he utter any last words !" 

" He mought — I dimno." 

" "Was he a Democrat or a Republican ?" 

" I dunno." 

We went away with sad hearts, and as we turned for a 
last look at the historic spot my companion uncovered his 
head and said : 

" Oh ! glorious Liberty, 'tis sweet indeed to die for thee ! 
Township rights, including a full set of rollers, only twenty- 
five dollars !" 



GOING TO PIC-NICS. 



f 1 HAVEN'T been to one in seven long years, but it 
still thrills me to come across an advertisement read- 
ing that this or that Sunday school or society proposes 
to give a river excursion or a railroad trip for the purpose 
of raising a few hundred dollars to found an orphan asylum 
or pay off a debt. 

No man ever enjoyed himself on an excursion or at a 
pic-nic more than I used to. 

Wife and I always had a week to get ready in, and the 
bill for eatables and new garments never amounted to over 
forty dollars. 

For six days we baked, washed turned the house upside 
down, talked about the cool breezes and shady trees, and 
were then ready to start. 

Got up at four o'clock a. m. to catch the boat. 

Got the six children washed and dressed by seven. 

Got mad by eight. 

Got down to the boat by nine. 

Counted up the children, the baskets and bundles, and 
found all there. 

The boat was advertised to start at sharp nine, and she 
started — up to another wharf, and laid there until eleven. 

During the interval some one stole my cold chickens, a 
fat woman sat down on our baby, and my wife fell over the 
gang-plank and knocked her nose out of shape. 

Boat finally started for the island. 

41 



42 



SEVERAL THINGS. 



We had just commenced to feel how good it was to leave 
the dusty city behind when a fellow stuck his cane into my 
eye, and Small Pica got a peanut in his wind-pipe. While 
wife was shaking him she lost her hat overboard, and a 
boy threw her sun-umbrella over for the hat to hang 
on to. 

Several fights. 

"We got on the larbord side of the wheel-house, counted 
noses, and discovered that William Henry was missing. 
Went in search of him, and found him in possession of a 
fellow who weighed one hundred and ninety pounds and 
had a red nose. He said he recognized William Henry as 
a child stolen from Cleveland fourteen years before, and 
before we got through with it my eyes looked over plum- 
colored hills and his teeth were all out. 




Finally reached the island 
and the cool shade. 

The aforesaid shade was thrown over us from an ancient 
board fence, the trees having been monopolized by the 
nine hundred people who landed before we did. 

Commenced to rain. 

Cleared off just about the time we had been soaked 
through. 



SEVERAL MORE THINGS. 43 

Mrs. Quad began wishing she had remained at home, 
but I silenced her by declaring that it was our duty to our 
children to shake off the dust once in awhile and get out 
among the cool breezes. 

Ate our lunch. 

There was one pickle for each of us, and a bologna for 
the baby. 

Owing to the different varieties of soil on the island, 
William Henry had a blue clay stain on his back, Susan 
represented a moist loam, Archimedes bore off the palm 
on Ohio clay, and Bertha and the baby appeared in all the 
grandeur of bottom lands. 

Concluded to go in search of shady dells and silent 
glades. 

Found a dell with two dead horses in it, and the glades 
were full of floating logs. 

Mrs. Quad thought we had better wander along the 
pebbly beach and gather some shells, and we wandered. 

Gathered an old boot, a pop-bottle, a broken oar, and 
then went in search of help to pry my family out of the 
quick-sand. When we were all together on the grass 
again we concluded to go to the boat. 

Went there. 

Waited four hours for her to start. 

She started and got stuck. 

Waited two hours and she got off. 

Several fights. 

One fat man overboard. 

One lean woman overboard. 

Everybody else over-bored. 

More fights. 

The steamer finally went ahead, and struck another bar. 

Was admitted to the bar — half her length. 

More waiting. 



44 



HOW AVE NOW DO. 



More fights, and so forth, and so forth. 
Got to the wharf at midnight. 
Got home at one. 
Got to bed at two. 
Got up at three to go for the doctor. 
He said it was three cases of croup, one of exhaustion, 
and two of general debility. 

The rest of us in usual good health. 




Since that date we do not go on " picked excursions " to 
shady islands, when we want recreation from care and 
relief from the heat — we jam ourselves into cattle-cars, 
ride thirty miles to some grove, get in the shade of an old 
barn, and pity the miserable people who remained at home. 



"PRIMROSE." 



NEVER asked why they called him "Primrose." I 
presume it was a nick-name, but in those days the 
fewer questions one asked of Nevada people the bet- 
ter he got along. 

I hadn't the least idea that there was a newspaper within 
two hundred miles of me, and was therefore dumbfounded 
at looking out of the stage-coach window and observing 
the sign : 



I^V^M^T PSf^f} IK tfi{V®f>a. 




I got out of the coach, tell- 
ing the driver that I would 
lay over, and walked across 
the street to the office. There 
were no stairs to climb. It 
was a rude shanty, and the 
door was ajar. 

As I went in I beheld 
Primrose seated at the edito- 
rial table, surrounded by the 
implements of his noble pro- 
fession. He eyed me suspiciously as I looked around the 

45 



46 



WAITING FOR A VACANCY. 



office and took a mental inventory, but when I sat down 
on the corner of the table and told him that I was a weary 
stranger, out of a job and looking for work, his counten- 
ance brightened up and he held out his hand. 

" You want a sit, eh ?" he inquired, rubbing at the patch 
on his cheek. 

I replied that I did, and he leaned back and seemed to 
ponder for several minutes. Finally he said : 

" Well, I dunno. I've got a man now, and he's a buster. 
He can stick type, write editorial, gather local, work 
press, or fight a whole crowd. I've got him now, but there 
may be a vacancy before night. We two are going over to 
the hills this afternoon to canvass for subscribers and 





write up a. new ' find,' and there's no knowing 
how we'll come out. There's a rough crowd 
over there, and the camp is sort o' down on the 
^ip=F Gazette. If you'll hang around until night 
you'll know one way or the other." 

I decided to wait, and as soon as his foreman came in 



HAD GOT TIRED. 



47 



Primrose buckled on his armory, and they mounted mules 
and rode aAvay, leaving me in charge. 

As I afterwards learned, the pair reached the hills all 
right, and were cordially received. The reception was 
most too cordial. The miners dropped shovel and pick, 
and the illustration on the preceding page will give the 
reader a faint idea of what followed. 

The foreman was a man of great pluck and endurance, 
but he couldn't hold out against such a demonstration, 

and the last Primrose 
saw of him he was being 
laid away to rest in the 
bed of " Pizen " river. 
The editor had luck on 
his side, and though sev- 
eral revolvers blazed at 
him as he jumped from 
a cliff, the bullets went 
wild. 

I waited two days and 
then continued my jour- 
ney. About a hundred 
miles west found Prini- 
Svbscribers paying up. rose. He had rented a 

shanty in an embryo city, and was making a bargain with 
a teamster to go up and bring back the office. 

" No, it wasn't very hot up there," he replied as I ques- 
tioned him, " but I was tired of being shot at by the Bame 
old crowd !" 




THE HOODLUM. 




OWNS and villages could get along very well 
without liim, but what could a city do with- 
out its hoodlum — its brigade of hoodlums ! 
Lor' bless him, in spite of his rags and dirt 
and his " sass !" 

It requires nerve and courage to be a hood- 
lum. The boy has got to have the heart of 
a man, the courage of a lion, and the consti- 
tution of an Arab. Only one in a hundred gives him 
credit for half his worth. No one cares whether he grows 
fat or starves ; whether Fortune lifts him up or casts him 
down; whether night finds him quarters in a box or a 
comfortable bed. He's a hoodlum, and hoodlums are gen- 
erally supposed capable of getting along somehow, the 
same as a horse turned out to graze. 

Not one boy in ten can be a hoodlum. Nature never 
overstocks the market. If left an orphan the average boy 
dies, or has relatives to care for him, or falls in the way of 
a philanthropist and comes up a straight-haired young man 
with a sanctimonious look. The true hoodlum is born to 
the business. He swallows marbles and thimbles as soon 
as he can creep, begins to fall down stairs when a year old, 
and is found in the alley as soon as he can walk. He 
receives numerous maulings from the boys, gets a semi- 

48 




THE FUTURE PRESIDENTS. 



SOME MORE OF HIM. 49 

daily licking at home, and when able to talk plain is an 
accomplished swearer and ready to enter upon his combat 
with the world. 

About this time his father dies or runs away, or his 
mother dies or elopes, and the hoodlum is free to go and 
come. The neighbors hate the boy because he has broken 
their windows and knocked pickets off the fence, and they 
have no care for his future. Once in a great while some 
one may halt him and ask him if he ever heard of the 
Bible, or Heaven, or the angels, and hands go up in aston- 
ishment to find that he never has. Something ought to be 
done with him, but who shall take him and train him? 
Every pedestrian will assert that the boy is a heathen, but 
he is left to run his career, as before. It's no one's duty 
in particular to wash him up, give him a square meal, put 
decent garments on his back and then seek to make a man 
of him, and so the boy becomes further initiated into the 
hoodlum business. He knows that people look down on 
him ; that no one cares for him ; that he has the whole 
world to fight against, and he hardens his heart and grows 
suspicious and ugly. When a long-haired man halts him 
and wants to know if he has ever been to Sunday school 
the hoodlum promptly replies : 

" Oh ! sling a dictionary at me !" 

There are plenty to teach him evil, and the hoodlum at 
ten is thirty years old in sin. He remembers when Jem 
Mace and Heenan had their little bout, can name the lead- 
ing race-horses, and the game of euchre is old with him. 
He may skulk into a barn at nine in the morning, or he 
may hang around until midnight and then make his bed 
in a door-way or a box, to be astir again at early dawn. 

The hoodlum gets knocked, and he knocks back. Older 
and more wicked hoodlums steal from him, and he gets 
even by stealing from the public. He closely studies the 

D 



50 BUT BLESS HIM. 

habits of house-owners. He knows that axes are fre- 
quently left in back yards, and that buck-saws, saw-bucks, 
scrap-iron and the like find ready market at the junk- 
buyer's. While other people promenade the avenues he 
prowls through the alleys. He is familiar with the width 
and depth of every back yard in his beat, and he knows 
to a cent what plunder is worth. The hoodlum sometimes 
makes a mistake and is captured and imprisoned, but as 
a rule his keenness and fleetness are too much for the law. 
While other people sleep he prowls; he forgets what a bed 
is like ; he gets to believe that decayed oranges and crack- 
ers make a meal fit for a king ; he prides himself on a 
black eye, and he sits on the curbstone and tells great lies 
of how he has traveled and what he has seen. 

But, bless the hoodlum. We can look at him and 
admire the brave heart which backs the boy against the 
whole world, or we can hold him up as an example of 
youthful depravity, and warn other boys not to be like 
him. We can use him in an argument against one going 
to Africa to find heathens, or we can point to his bad deeds 
and urge that the law deprive society of his presence. He 
steals our penstock spout, but blacks our boots ; he carries 
off the family axe, but brings the family paper each morn- 
ing ; he breaks our window, steals our dog and hooks the 
clothes-line, but he can be trusted for an errand. We 
couldn't have Fourth of July without him, and we all won- 
der, even as we blame him, why he is not ten times worse. 



THERE WERE BUGS THERE. 



'XL the officers and crew of the old steamer " Pan- 
ther," a Missouri River stern-wheeler, had got used 
to the bugs which persisted in living in and around the 
bunks and berths, and we sometimes wondered why pas- 
sengers couldn't put up with such little annoyances for a 
night without the loudest kind of complaining. 

One night we took on a lone passenger at Leavenworth. 
He was an old man, and a very grave and solemn man, 
telling the captain, I believe, that he was a New Englander, 
out west as a missionary. 

We had a full load of freight, were running up stream, 
making slow time, and the solemn man got to bed early. 
He hadn't been in his state-room half an hour when he was 
heard thrashing around, and directly he came into the 
cabin, half-dressed, face wearing an anxious look, and he 
inquired of the steward : 

" Sir, is the capting on board ?" 

" Just gone to his state-room," was the answer. 

" Call him — call him at once ! I have important busi- 
ness !" said the old man. 

The captain was routed out, and as he inquired what was 
up, the old man approached him, extended his right arm 
until the fore-finger was within an inch of the captain's 
nose, and in a hoarse voice he whispered : 

"Sir! do you know that there are bugs aboard this 
boat?" 

51 



52 



FOUND MORE BUGS. 



"Y-e-s — ahem — that is, there may be," answered the 
captain. Then turning to the steward he continued : 

"James, change him to No. 7." 

The old man was changed to another state-room, the 

captain returned to bed, 
and all went smoothly for 
about twenty-five minutes, 
when the old man again 
appeared in the cabin. 
"Call the capting!" he 
said to a negro waiter who 
happened to be passing. 
" Call — the — capting — 
at once !" continued the 
old man, in a decided 
tone. 

The captain was routed 
out, and he was hardly 

"Bugs Aboard." Outside the door of his 

state-room when the old man whispered : 

" Bugs, sir! More bugs !" 

" Well, I can't help it !" angrily exclaimed the captain. 
" Confound it ! what can I do about it ? You can take 
the next state-room." 

The old man turned into No. 5, and it was near mid- 
night before he was heard from again, except an occa- 
sional groan. All at once he jumped out into the cabin, 
walked across to the captain's state-room, and began pound- 
ing in a furious manner. 

" Ho ! Whoa ! "What's up !" shouted the captain, 
throwing off sleep and jumping out of bed. 

" Capting ! Capting !" called the old man. 

" Is that you ? What do you want ?" demanded the cap- 
tain, as he stepped out of his room. 




AND SOME MORE. 



53 



" Bugs, sir — B-u-g-s !" whispered the old man. 

"Well, hang it, I can't clean 'em out to-night, can I!" 
growled the captain. " I guess you're nervous. The bugs 
don't disturb me any. Go into No. 9, there, and if you 
rout me out again I'll put you ashore in the woods, blamed 
if I don't!" 




More Bugs. 

The old man made no reply, but turned into ISTo. 9, and 
it was an hour after midnight before the bugs got too 
many for him. They finally rolled him out of bed, and 
he got up, dressed, locked his satchel, and walked across 
the cabin to the captain's door and pounded away with his 
fist. 

"Hi! there — what is it!" called the captain. 

" Capting, arise !" exclaimed the old man. 

"I'll arise you, if you don't stop this fooling around!" 
replied the captain. 

" Capting, I desire to see you !" continued the old man. 

The captain got into his pantaloons, opened the door 
and said : 

" Well, what now ?" 

"Bugs — larger bugs!" whispered the passenger. 



54 



HAD A PREFERENCE. 



" Didn't I tell you I'd put you ashore if you made any 
more fuss about those bugs !" roared the captain. 

" You did — you did," replied the old man — " and now I 
want you to do it!" 

"You do?" 

" Yes, my friend — I prefer the woods to the bugs ! Stop 
your old boat !" 




Stop Your Old Boat." 



The steamer was hugging the Missouri shore, and the 
captain stopped her, pushed out the plank, and the old 
man jumped to the bank, landing a dozen miles from any 
house. We delayed hauling in the plank, not liking to 
leave him there, but the stranger took a seat on the bank, 
looked calmly down upon us, and as the boat moved away, 
he called out : 

" Capting, don't feel hard to'ards me, but I can't stand 
bugs !" 



A SAD SONG. 



^Jfe^feiP^N' the years gone by, an old Michigan quill- 

]Fff[ driver named Blake went to Detroit on 

)}■ flk business, he being then connected with a 

I £S*& | paper in the western part of the State. He 

NrWP* S ot P ret ^J ^ u ^ D y e v e n i n g» but was invited 

Jl IL into the ladies' parlor of the hotel, with 

{^y<y^^^^j others, to hear a young lady initiate a new 

vTN^v^^J piano. After she had played several tunes 

V^V^lf Blake asked her to play " Lily Dale." She 

DTv/ylo complied, and he sat down on a chair and 
W ( cried, excusing his action by saying to the 
V crowd : 

" It's a sad song, and it always puts me in mind of my 
dead mother." 

It was played again, and Blake went to bed with " Lily 
Dale" ringing in liis ears. He occupied the same bed 
with a merchant's clerk, the hotel being crowded, and soon 
after turning in a dog commenced to howl in the back 
yard. " Woooo-hoo-hoo !" wailed the dog, and Blake sat 
up in bed and exclaimed : 
" There's ' Lily Dale ' again !" 

" Git out — it's only a dog howling," replied the clerk. 
" Stranger," said Blake as he turned his head, " stranger, 
if you'd lost your poor old mother and felt as bad as I do 
you'd bet fifty dollars to five that it was ' Lily Dale.' Yes, 
it's that same song, and I've got to cry again !" 

55 



56 



BOUND TO CRY. 



"I tell you it's the landlord's brindled dog!" protested 
the clerk. 

" It can't be, I know by my feelings it hain't," replied 
Blake. " "When the strains of that sad melody cross my 
heart-strings I'd cry if it was Fourth of July and every 
brass band in Michigan was in the front door yard playing 
1 Yankee Doodle!'" 

And he got up and sat down on the lid of a chest and 
wept profusely, while the clerk nearly choked himself with 
laughter. 




<Hvv«fc_ 



THE OLD FIREMAN. 



SpjJE may still be found in small towns and villages, 
dt-r- here and there, but the old fireman has had his day. 
He knows it, and he sighs as he hangs up his trumpet and 
removes his belt. 

Steam — hissing, pushing, throbbing steam is too much 
for human muscle. 

The old fireman was in his glory twenty years ago. No 
statesman's heart thrilled with greater pride over a success- 
ful speech than did the old fireman's as he took the lead 
of the company — the two 
long lines in red shirts, 
and moved the hand-en- 
gine down to the bridge 
and dropped the suction 
into the river. He was 
a captain — a colonel — a 
general — and he wouldn't 
have exchanged positions 
with the Czar of Russia. 
No general, urging his 
men to go in and cover 
themselves with glory, 
could get that deep, pomp- 




Thkm Hose. 



ous voice which the old fireman secured as he called out : 
" Back 'er up — man the brakes !" 

57 



58 



SHE TAKES. 



On his head was a leather hat, surmounted by a golden 
eagle — around his waist a broad belt bearing the word 
"Foreman," and as he braced himself for the next call he 
felt that the mayor of the town was a pigmy — a cipher — 
an atom. 

" Lay them hose !" 

That was the next order, and he walked down the street 
to see the pipe put on and to direct that the stream be 
thrown over Baker's tin-shop or McFarland's horse-barn. 
As he walked back to the engine he scowled fiercely at 
the small boys, nodded distantly to the men who worked 
side by side with him in the shop, and wondered how his 
wife dared smile at him so familiarly. 




Bar' Down; 

" Work 'er easy !" he whispered as he mounted the 
engine. 

It was a fearful moment. Perhaps she would " take " 
water, perhaps not. The " perhaps " were always two to 
one where the engine was drawn out to a fire once in six 
or eight months. 

She took. 



NOW BREAK 7 ER 



59 



The air rushed down the hose, followed hy water, and 
water finally leaped from the nozzle in a sickly stream. 
Then came the next order : 

"Bar' down a little!" 

The men at the brakes put on more muscle, and the 
stream leaped to the roof of the barn, striking the shingles 
with a squashy sort of splash. The small boys yelled, the 
women waved their handkerchiefs, and one property-holder 
turned to another and remarked : 

" If Scrubtown only had such an engine, property would 
jump right up, and folks would settle there !" 




'Break 'er." 



The foreman looked down on the crowd and smiled. It 
was a benign smile. It was a smile which conveyed a 
warning to the close observer that the engine was only 
playing with herself, and that she would presently stand 
upon her hind wheels and howl and astonish that town. 

The face of more than one small boy grew serious as its 
owner wondered if it were possible that he would ever rise 
to that proud station. He knew that there w T ere a thou- 



60 



BREAK ER HARD 



sand chances against liim, and even as lie watched the 
stream battering at the shingles he sighed and felt his heart 
sneaking down toward his bare feet. 

The foreman straightened up. 

Victory lurked in his eyes. 

He raised his trumpet. 

" Break 'er !" 

The red-shirted men uttered a yell as they bore down on 
the brakes. 

The stream crept up to within three feet of the ridge- 
pole, and playing through one hundred and fifty feet of 
hose at that. The fate of kingdoms hung in the balance ; 
America's future greatness depended on the next minute. 




Break 'er Hard!" 



The boys were yelling. 
The women were applauding. 
The men were shouting. 
The stream was gaining. 
A bland smile covered the foreman's face, 
his trumpet, and then 



He raised 



SHADOWS OF THE PAST. 61 

" Break 'er, boys — hard — hard — tear 'er — hip — ha — yee 
yup — down — down !" 

He leaped up and down — he shook his trumpet — he 
brayed — he screamed, and the stream crept up, up, and 
finally shot clear over the ridge, and the proud day was 
won — America was safe ! 

Most of us w r ere there at one time or other, and when 
we let up on the brakes and swung our hats and yelled, 
we felt it — knew that we could knock the eye-brows off 
the biggest conflagration that ever got a start. 

Ah ! well ! This subtle giant which plows the steamer 
across the trackless ocean — turns monster machinery, and 
is our companion in every walk of daily life, has defaced 
the play-grounds of childhood and effaced more than one 
tender memory of youth ; and when the day conies for the 
old fireman to hang his trumpet on the shadow of the past 
and throw his red shirt aside to add to memory's trophies, 
we who have kept the drag-rope taut Cannot repress a 
sigh, and must feel a dark shadow cross the sunlight of 
recollection. 




SHE HAD A HEART AFTER ALL. 




jVERYTHING looked so grim and silent 
around the house that the door was burst 
in and they found the old woman dead. 
She had lived there for years and years. 
People knew her, yet no one knew her. 
Some called her " Old Nan," and some 
thought her a witch. She never left her 
yard, never spoke to any one except to 
snarl and growl, and a lone sailor drifting about on the 
ocean could not have been more distant from love and 
sympathy. 

No one ever called twice on " Old Nan " for charity. 
Beggars sometimes knocked at her humble door, but as 
soon as they saw her witch-like face, bent form and mena- 
cing look, they hurried away, marking the house that they 
might not call again. If you had asked any of the neigh- 
bors if the old woman had a heart — could feel love, pity 
or tenderness — if there was anything which could get down 
through the crust of disappointment, avarice and despair, 
and touch the nature which God gives every woman, they 
would have laughed in derision. And yet she had a heart, 
and it was touched. Death touched it. 

62 



ALMOST WORE A SMILE. 63 

She did not die in her bed. She might have been ill for 
three or four days, but she did not call out and ask for 
assistance. Perhaps she knew her time had come, and 
that no human hand could aid her, and as she felt the 
weight of Death's shadow she was a woman again. There 
were longings in her heart, new feelings in her soul, and 
no one can say that she did not weep. She crept oil' t... 
bed, made her w T ay to an old chest, and from its depths she 
pulled up an old and tattered Testament. Between its 
leaves were two cards. On one was pinned a lock of hair, 
tied with faded ribbon — a brown, curly lock, such as you 
might clip from the head of a boy of five. In a quaint 
old hand was written on the card the words : " My boy 
Jamie's hair." On the other card were pinned three or 
four violets, so old and faded that they looked like 
paper. 

She sat in a chair holding the book in her lap, and her 
stiffening fingers held those cards up to her blind eyes. 
Thus they found her — a card in either hand and the Holy 
Book lying open in her lap ! The men, women and chil- 
dren who had crowded in with the officer saw how it was, 
and some of them wept. " Old !Nan " had a heart, after 
all. She must have been a mother once and had a mother's 
tender feeling. No doubt she was loved and happy when 
she severed that brown curl from its mates and wrote on 
the card : " My boy Jamie's hair !" 

They removed the precious relics very tenderly, and 
when they came to look into her face they saw that it 
almost wore a smile, and that the hard lines had all been 
rubbed out by the tenderness which flowed into her heart 
as Death was laying his hand upon her. 

Who culled those violets ? Where is Jamie ? 

Time had faded the violets away until a breath would 
have scattered them — the curly lock had been wept over 



64 



WAITING AND WATCHING. 



until its brightness was gone — poor Jamie, passing across 
the mystic river which flows swiftly and deeply between 
the shore of life and the gate of Heaven, was waiting and 
watching. 

Truly, the greatest mystery of life is — life. 




KEEPING THE BOY IN NIGHTS. 



t'VE lived in this world long enough to know that the 
next hardest thing to curing a sore heel is to keep a 
boy home nights after he has passed the age of ten. He 
then begins to believe that it is his solemn duty to go out 
and hook watermelons and other portable delicacies of the 
season, sit around the corner stores and hear all that is to 
be said on the subject of dog fights, horse races and shoul- 
der-hitting, and to keep out of bed as long as he can see 
a light in any window. 

I know fathers who have thrashed their sons, bribed and 
coaxed and resorted to all sorts of stratagems without 
doing any good, and I therefore take this opportunity 
of presenting to parents a few words and a few illustra- 
tions on the subject of keeping the boy in nights. 

This illustration represents 
a very effectual method, much 
practiced in Wisconsin. When 
a father takes Lis son at dark 
and spikes him down to the 
kitchen floor he knows just 
where that boy will be at ten 
o'clock, and at eleven, and all night for that matter. It 
is a great improvement on the old method of mauling the 
boy with the shovel after he has got into the house through 
a back window, slid up stairs and into bed, and is just 
entering upon the outskirts of a pleasant dream. 

The next method is called " The Rochester " method, 
E 65 




Wisconsin Method. 



UtJ 



EFFECTUAL METHODS. 




going 
and we 



having been first adopted in that city, where I sold two 
hundred and eighty " rights " in three days. Fathers 
called upon me with tears trickling down their cheeks, and 
they shook me by the hand and exclaimed : 

" Sir, you have saved 
our sons from 
down to ruin 
feel that we can't think 
too much of you." 
Some families use a 

Rochester Method. COrd of stone to pile 

on the bojf, but half as much, if properly placed, is war- 
ranted to hold him to the spot through any night in the 
year. Where this system is practiced there is no waking 
up at midnight and wondering where Charles Henry is, 
and what sort of company he is in. If parents wake at all 
it is to smile sweetly as they remember that Charles Henry 
is right there in that house, while other boys are on the 
high road to degradation. In a prairie country, where 
stone cannot well be obtained, eight 
tons of old scrap-iron will answer 
•every purpose. 

- The next method is called " The 
New Jersey " method, where I had 
the honor to introduce it in the 
spring of 1872. Most parents in 
that State had given up in despair, 
but they gave me a cordial welcome, 
and after my remedy had been tried 
a few times and had substantiated 
my assertions, old men and middle- new jersey method. 
aged men and widows bore down upon me in crowds. 
One old man said to me, with quivering chin : 

" Sir, they should bury you beside George Washington 
when you die I" 




EFFECTUAL METHODS. 



67 



A widow woman pressed forward, grasped my hand and 
exclaimed : 

"Mister Quad, your name will be enscrolled upon the 
archives of fame !" 

I use four-inch scantling for posts, and brace them well. 
The weight should never be less than five thousand pounds, 
and may consist of old grindstones, soft brick, or whatever 
comes handy. The method is covered by two patents, and 
the public are hereby cautioned against an infringement, 
brought out by Stanley Waterloo, of the St. Louis Republi- 
can, whose trial for the offense is now in progress. 

The next method is called " The Louisville " method, 

having been first prac- 



ticed in that city. It 
is partly the invention 
of one of the editors 
of the Courier- Journt i /, 
but I have patents for 
four improvements on 

- his original invention. 

| Some people use a log 

Louisville Method. chain instead of a rope, 

but a two-inch rope works better in the pulley, and if new 
will hold a boy of sixteen without the least trouble. The 
fathers of Louisville had no faith in the invention, and it 
was several days before I could secure an opportunity to 
exhibit its marvelous workings. AVe tried it on a " Butcher 
Town" boy of fifteen, who had been out every night for 
four years, and who had come to such a pass that his father 
was ashamed to attend a respectable dog-fight or be seeD 
at a raffle, and it worked so well that I had thirty-five 
orders next day. One father said to me : 

"You are a greater man than Thomas Jefferson ever 
dared be !" 




68 



EFFECTUAL METHODS. 



Another said, his eyes full of tears and his voice husky 
with emotion : 

" I never thought I should live to see this day !" 

The last thing, as I got into the omnibus, a woman laid 
her hand on my arm and sobbed : 

"I never dreamed that a red-headed man had such a 
noble soul !" 

Parties desiring rights can address me at Detroit. 




EXECUTIN' THE LAW 




^F course, where three or four hundred 
miners were gathered together at a 
diggings, as in the early days of Cali- 
fornia and Nevada, before steam and 
machinery had taken the place of 
picks and pans, no one's life would have been safe an hour 
but for the border-laws always in force. 

It was understood that murder and stealing would be 
punished by hanging, and this knowledge kept most of the 
camps in a safe and peaceful state, although a case of mur- 
der was sure to come sooner or later. 

One night at Crazy Horse Diggings, a burly big fellow 
called Tomahawk, was arrested after he had stabbed a 
sleeping miner to the heart and robbed him of his little 
store of dust. The murderer made a hard fight to escape, 
but was knocked down and secured, and two men stood 
guard over him the remainder of the night. 

Crazy Horse was one of the most peaceful, law-abiding 
diggings in the State, else Tomahawk would have been 
dangling at a limb within half an hour after the discovery 
of his crime. We never lynched an offender, but gave him 
a fair trial and then executed him in as good style as cir- 
cumstances would permit. Tomahawk was guilty beyond 
a doubt. Three or four men had seen him quit the shanty 
of his victim, and his hands and clothing were stained with 

69 



70 



TOMAHAWK IS TKIED. 



blood, but yet we all felt as if we must at least go through 
with the form of a trial. 

Next morning every man in camp knocked off work, 
and about nine o'clock we formed in a circle on the grass, 
and Tomahawk was led in. He was a rough 'un in look and 
nature, and we expected to see him bluff and brave. When 
he had been seated on a barrel, and the excitement had 







subsided, an old man from Vermont who was called 
"Judge," and who had acted as judge in several previous 
cases, arose and said : 

" Prisoner, you ar' charged with the awful crime of 
murder ! None of us hain't any doubt of your guilt, but 
Crazy Horse ar' a peaceful diggin's, and we ar' goin' to 
give you a fa'r trial. Do you want any one to speak fur 
you, or do you want to make any remarks ?" 

" See here, boys !" said Tomahawk as he slowly rose up 



TOMAHAWK IS willin'. 71 

and looked around On the circle — "boys! I hain't goin' 
to lie about this thing, and I hain't goin' to make ye 
any more trouble than I can help ! I am guilty ! I 
wanted to leave here, because I wasn't makin' anythin", 
but I didn't have an ounce to go with. I didn't mean to 
kill him. I was after his dust, but he w r oke up, grabbed 
me, and I had to stab him. I know the law, and I shan't 
try to beg off!" 

The circle of men were greatly surprised to see Toma- 
hawk so broken down, and while all felt that the law must 
be enforced, nearly every one also felt considerable sympa- 
thy for the prisoner. There was silence for two or three 
minutes, and then the Judge arose and replied : 

" Pris'ner at the bar, w T e knowed you w T ar' guilty, but 
we wanted to do this thing right and lawful. We'd bin 
willin' to give you a squar' trial, but as you have owned up 
I s'pose there's nothing left but to hang you !" 

" That's w T hat I'm willin' you should do !" replied Toma- 
hawk. " If you didn't execute the law on me this camp 
would soon be so rough that an honest man couldn't live 
here. I'm ready now, 'cept that I'd like to have some one 
pray for me !" 

The Judge passed around the circle, looking for some 
one to act as chaplain and spiritual adviser, but there 
wasn't a man in camp who felt equal to the task. 

Tomahawk understood the situation after awhile, and he 
said : 

" Oh ! well — it won't make no great difference. I've 
bin purty rough, and p'raps prayin' wouldn't help me any, 
though I b'lieve it's the rule to pray with a man afore they 
hang him. If any of ye can sing a religus tune it will 
do just a.s well." 

The Judge passed around the circle again, but not a man 
could be found who felt himself competent to sing a hymn. 



72 



TOMAHAWK IS EXECUTED. 



Here was another bad situation, and we were all feeling 
very much embarrassed, when a miner called Old Slabam 
sprang up, walked over to Tomahawk and said : 

" Here, old boy, we hain't none of us much on religun, 
and we can't remember any hymns. However, there's the 
song of " Sawnee River," and if that'll do I'll sing it the 
best I can !" 

" As I said before, I don't want to be too pertick'ler, nor 
make too much trouble," replied Tomahawk. " Seems to 
me thar ought to be sum singin', or sunthin', and I s'pose 
' Sawnee River ' will do as well as anythin'; you may go 
ahead !" 




"We moved over to the tree, Tomahawk mounted a bar- 
rel, the rope was slipped over his head, and then Old 
Slabam unbuttoned his vest, took a long breath, and 
commenced : 

"Way down upon the Sawnee River, 
Far, far away ; 
Thar's whar my heart is turning ever, 
Thar's whar the old folks stay." 



HE ACTED WHITE. 73 

He managed to get through with the song after a fashion, 
and then Tomahawk said : 

" I'm much obleeged to you, Slaham. You hain't much 
of a singer, but when a man does his level best that's all 
you can ask of him. It's a good song, kinder sad-like, and 
it war' a big favor to sing to me. Good-bye, boys. I've 
tried to act like a man in this 'ere affair, and I hope you 
w T on't be too hard on- me arter I've quit kicking! Well, 
here I go !" 

And he stepped off the barrel, hanging himself. 

"We all felt a little sorry as we turned back the sods and 
laid him away. Tomahawk had acted white. 




UNDER THE GAS -LAMP. 



3TL SOMETIMES wonder if, when I am old and helpless, 
C^> my children will look upon me as a shadow cast over 
their happiness ? I wonder if Fortune will not play some 
bad trick by which I may be thrown upon the charity of 
the world, and be treated as the world's charity treats other 
old men ? I wonder if youth will sneer at my gray locks 
and trembling limbs, and if people will say that I have out- 
lived my usefulness, and should be glad of a place in the 
poorhouse and a grave in Potter's field ? 

From my window the other night I watched an old man 
as he crept up the street and stood under the gas-lamp. 
He was gray and bent and feeble, and his fluttering rags 
were the leaves of a book, in which one could read of pov- 
erty, sorrow and woe. He looked around like a child, as 
if he knew not which way to turn. ISTo home, no friends — 
no one to care whether he lived or died. 

By and by he sat down on the step and rested his head 
on his hand. I knew what he was thinking of. His face 
was in the shadow, but I knew that tears were falling down 
those wrinkled cheeks, and that his old heart was sad and 
sore. There is nothing so lonely as an old man without 
home or friends. He felt it. He saw the old and the 
young go by, heard the laughter of happy children, and 
he bent his gray head still lower. His life had been a 
dreary struggle with poverty and grief, and those who had 
once cared for him had slept the long sleep for years. 

74 



IN A REFLECTIVE MuuD. 



70 



He was alone — old and weak, and the world was pitiless. 
!N"o one stopped to ask if lie was cold or hungry — no one 
eared whether his heart was heavy or glad. 




The Worlh tak Pitii.kss. 

The bleak wind whistled around the corner, and I saw 
the old man shiver. TTe had been a child once, perhaps 
petted and loved, and his mother had read to him from the 
good book: "Honor thy father and mother, that thy days 



76 FOUND A HOME AT LAST. 

may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth 
thee." Had his children honored him ? He had grown to 
manhood and battled with the world, and planned and 
hoped and pictured a bright future, as we all do. Men 
might have bowed to his eloquence and respected his tal- 
ents once, and in his sunshiny hours men might have flat- 
tered him and made him believe that their friendship would 
never die. Old age had crippled him, friendships had 
flown, and he was left alone to bear a double burden. 

He was waiting for death. lie would have welcomed 
its coming long ago, but the grave was not ready to receive 
him until his heart had felt more strongly the inhumanity 
of man, and until his burdens had quite crushed him down. 

I went to call him in. I looked up and down the street 
through the darkness, but he had vanished like a shadow. 

Yesterday, as I looked into the morgue I saw him rest- 
ing on the cold stone slab, hands folded across his breast 
and a look of relief on his pale face. They had found him 
floating in the river, and he had found a home at last. 




THE AWFUL FATE OF THE MAN WHO 
ADVERTISED. 



fil :Vpf ' IS name was Ilippoflam. His uncle left 

rt: #1\ \_r liim some money, and lie started in the 

X ^!^ S ^^;')S-) grocery and provision business. The 

|;B ' canvassers came around there from the 

? ^M^ y^ daily papers and said he had the best 

ssp/^ location in town, the nicest stock, and 

all that, and then went bang at him for an 

advertisement. He had read in the papers 

that John Jacob Astor, A. T. Stewart, John 

Smith, Daniel Pratt, and hosts of others, had once been 

poor, and had made their start by advertising. He believed 




"It Never Did Pay.'' 

it all, dough-bead that he was, and he advertised four 
squares in the Torchlight, six squares in the Badger, half a 

77 



78 WAS ELECTED MAYOR. 

column in the Moonshine, and slipped a five-dollar bill to 
the reporters and told 'em to say a good word for him. 

The reporters did, and when people saw from the adver- 
tisements that Hippoflam had started in business with a 
fresh, large stock, they rushed for his store. Then his 
troubles commenced. He had to hire an extra clerk and a 
cash-boy. He couldn't find time to sit down on a candle- 
box, thrust his feet upon the stove, and gossip about poli- 
tics and the Louisiana question. Every day or two he had 
to write or telegraph for new goods, ordering more coffee, 
tea, sugar or spices, and when the goods came he had to 
open them and retail them out. 

As day after day went by people began to notice that 
Hippoflam was growing thin and pale. He looked care- 
worn and harassed, as if driven. He kept advertising, 
and people kept patronizing him. Other grocers could get 
time to go off on excursions, and to sit down for hours at 
a time and play checkers and dominos, but Hippoflam 
could not get an hour to himself except time to sleep. 
By and by he had to open an account with yet another 
bank, get more clerks and cash-boys ; and it came about 
that he kept a carriage, built a fine house, wore broadcloth, 
and was elected mayor of the town. 

Of course, a man couldn't go on in this way many years 
and not break down his health, and the day came at last 
when Hippoflam had the dyspepsia, the jaundice, heart 
disease, rheumatism, and several other complaints. The 
shadow of death hung over him, while the grocers w r ho 
hadn't advertised at all grew fat and portly and had double 
chins on 'em. They had time to go fishing, were never 
tired out looking over their bank accounts, and it wasn't 
once a year that they had to order anything more than a 
box of herrings. 

Broken down in health, feeling mad at all the world, and 



SPORTIVELY INCLINED. 79 

finding himself a victim of the newspapers, Ilippoflam one 
day drew all his money out of the bank, passed it over to 
a lunatic asylum, set his store on fire, blew up his mansion 
with a keg of powder, and then hanged himself to a peach 




Treed by the Newspapers. 



tree in the back yard. The coroner cut him down, the 
jury sat on him, and the verdict was ■ 

"Advertising killed him, and we hereby warn all busi- 
ness men to let his fate be an awful example against pat- 
ronizing newspapers." 




HE GOES WEST. 



r jkjHE West is a glorious country. It also covers consid- 
Ym, erable around. It is the home of the hard-fisted son 
of toil, the tax-payer, and the independent American 
elector. Her broad, smiling prairies — her inviting wilder- 
nesses — her towering mountains and sun-lit valleys — her 
three-card monte men, slashing miners, grizzly bears, smil- 
ing landlords and four-mule teams — who does not love the 
great West ! 

I went west I dropped off" the train at Fort Scott to 
look around a little and perhaps invest in stocks. The citi- 




In the Stocks. 



zens came at me with stocks as soon as I got off the step. 
They seemed to take me for a banker, and they shoved 
stocks at me until my head swam. 

80 



DIVIDED BY SIXTEEN. 



81 



"When they found that I didn't want any stocks they ten- 
dered me the hospitalities of the town — at #6 per day. I 
was astonished at the way they charged for things at Fort 
Scott. It was two shillings an inch to ride in the omni- 
bus for instance. I couldn't be convinced of the fact until 
the omnibus driver hauled out a revolver and said he hadn't 
time to count more than four. 

In the afternoon one of the aldermen wanted me to go 
over and look at some city lots, with a view to purchase. 
I gladly consented, having in mind the establishment of a 




Astor Would Have Done It. 

soap factory which should make the town uninhabitable, 
but I didn't strike a bargain. His lots didn't seem to be 
well drained. He remarked that I didn't have that specu- 
lative turn of nature which made Astor what he is, and I 
got back to the depot and paid a dollar an hour for the 
privilege of sitting on the edge of a half-inch fence-board 
until the train came along. 

I also visited Denver. Denver is a very enterprising 
town. Sixteen different hackmen seized me as soon as I 
got off the cars, and I was divided into sixteen pieces and 
distributed among the hotels and boarding houses. I was 
a whole day getting together again, and I have never 
felt like my old self since. 

The landlords of Denver are very nice men, and they 

F 



82 



SUDDEN LOSS OF APPETITE. 



don't let the residents of the country around there inter- 
rupt a stranger's harmony of mind. I happened incident- 
ally, at the supper table, to remark that the earth moved 
around the sun, when a native sprang up and yelled at me : 
" Yer can't choke that down this yer traveler — git up 
and run or fiirht!" 




Astronomical. 

" My dear sir " I began, but he commenced to prance 

around and draw out dirks and daggers and bone-handled 
knives, and he was making for me when the landlord 
rested his shot-gun on my head and 
dropped him. I believe the fellow lived 
ten or fifteen seconds — -just long enough 
to murmur : " What will father do 
now!" and then he fell asleep in death. 
I started out to return my heartfelt 
thanks to the "landlord, but he inter- 
rupted me by replying : 

" Oh ! it's of no consequence at all — 
j^T I've been hankerin' to shoot somebody 
for more'n a week!" 
letters prom home. The next morning I went to the post- 
office and got my letters from home. They have a very 




ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION. 



83 




Didn't See Much of Ciikyexkk. 



accommodating postmaster there : he kept handing out let- 
ters to me until my arm ached. I hadn't perused over 
forty of them before I decided that Denver wasn't the place 
for me to settle in. It seemed to Lave an unhealthy look. 
Cheyenne is a thriving' town. I thought so as soon as 

the proprietor of an eating 
stand charged me $2 for a cup 
of coffee, and I didn't get rid 
of the idea until several days 
after leaving the town. I 
didn't see much of Cheyenne. 
A number of citizens came 
down the street to meet me, 
and I hadn't commenced to 
shake hands when they hustled me along without regard 
to my health, and deposited me in a room which had but 
one window, and that was so covered up with iron bars as 
to prevent my securing 
anything like a general 
view of the town. 

They told me next day 
that I had better go fur- 
ther w T est — that the cli- 
mate around there might 
kill me if I remained, and 
I took their advice. 

Laramie is also a very 
nice town. It's a little 
wild, and its people rather 
demonstrative in their 
enthusiasm, but all this 
will be corrected in less 
than a thousand years. I 
hadn't been in the town 
half a day before a crowd assembled and called me out on 




On the Hotel Balcony. 



84 



VOTING IN THE AFFIRMATIVE. 



the hotel balcony to make a speech. I responded, and it 
is not for me to say whether it was a grand oratorical effort 
or a dead failure, although I have my private opinion. 
The speech alluded very briefly to the landing of the Pil- 
grim Fathers, merely touched on the glorious services of 
Washington, and no reference whatever was made to 
astronomy or botany. Just at the close of the speech some 
one inquired if I could get out of Laramie in twenty min- 
utes, and upon my replying in the 
affirmative the enthusiastic crowd dis- 
persed. 

The citizens of "White Horse Station 
are very obliging people. I happened 
to fall against one of them as I wan- 
dered over the town, and after he had snapped four caps on 
his revolver, in efforts to shoot me, he called to a man 
across the street : 

" Here, Jack, please shoot this coyote for me !" 
"With pleasure!" was the reply, and the fellow opened 
fire and kept it up until I got tired and gave another citizen 
seventy cents to go over and chop his head off with an 
Indian hatchet. 




I Could. 




THE DEEP, GRIM SILENCE OF THE FOURTH STORY. 




one ever comes up into the rooms of the 
top story of a four-story building set 
apart for the staif of a daily paper. 
This is why every article reads so evenly 
and smoothly. All you've got to do if 
you belong to the staff is to climb up 
there, sit all day long in the deep, grim 
silence, and when midnight comes you 
can lower yourself down stairs with a 
consciousness that every article will 
read like clock-work. 

Yesterday morning I commenced an 
article entitled " The Unseen Influences 
of the Spirit "World," and had got as far as to say that 
" Although we hear no voices, there is some subtle influ- 
ence pervading the " when a man came up with a 

demand for a correction of an article charging him with 
bigamy. You have to keep right on with an idea when 
you get hold of it, so I run him in : 

" Pervading the air about you all the time Peter Smith 
has called at this office to say that the unheard voices com- 
ing from the dead often swerve us from he isn't \he man 
mentioned as having two wives the path marked out by the 

obstinate 

(Here another man came in and wanted a notice of his 
new building.) 

85 



86 EDITORIAL MEDLEY. 

— spirits which refuse to yield to that new block on Michi- 
gan avenue, although Smith is directly charged by the 
police with a marble front and 120 feet deep. At night, 
after a day's toil, who does not love to sit down and let his 
mind run to the mysterious shadowy basement under it 
and stone caps above the windows we take great pleasure 
in setting Smith right before his fellow-citizens, and " 

(Here a man came up and wanted to look at a State map, 
although he could have found one down stairs.) 
— " Certainly, sir, look at all the State maps you want to 
and call back the spirit of some dear friend gone before us 
will ascertain the name of the policeman who wrongfully 
accused Mr. Smith of having a frontage on Michigan ave- 
nue which helps the look of that street very much, and 
you will find the county of Hillsdale further to the left of 
that land from which no one has ever returned to tell us 
whether our friends are sad or joyful " 

(Here a boy came up and wanted to sell us some tonka 
beans to keep moths off.) 

" Thank ye, bub, don't want any tonka beans if you ever 
want to look at any more of our maps come right up with 
a Mansard roof to crown all, and Smith is now set right 
before the public and his friends generally, who have thus 
improved the town and commune with them as to whether 
a moment of sadness does not occasionally steal over them 
as they think of the fond friends left behind come up again 
and I'll talk with you about the tonka beans and every 
patriotic citizen ought to keep a State map in his new 
block on Michigan avenue Smith states that one of his 
wives deserted him in Illinois and the other " 



(Here a subscriber came in and wanted to know why no 
paper was issued the day after Thanksgiving.) 

" Because it was a day set apart for one hundred and 
forty-four windows in the entire block with tonka beans 



s'moke o' the same sort. 87 

enameled on State maps to mourn their early departure 
through the valley of the shadow of death I don't want 
you to bother me any more Mr. Smith about your wives 
and come bub get right down stairs now with your beans 
to that spirit land where all is joy and peace the compositors 
wanted a holiday and it's against the principles of Chris- 
tianity to " 

(Here a boy came up with a basket of apples.) 
— " Forever more can't eat apples owing to my teeth and 
Smith is now made good for any beans which any State 
map connected with this office has nothing but joy and 
peace to mark the never ending time I'll break your neck 
if you say apples to me again and you see that the new 
block spoken of has no bigamy to prove the moths don't 
apple the tonka beans sold in Hillsdale county. 




HAVING THE TOOTHACHE. 




I HAVE seen men who would jump up and 
_^, down and call everybody liars, and abuse 
their wives, and swear an oath as large as an 
old fashioned out-door oven, simply because 
they had the toothache. Watkins is one of 
those sort of men. He just gets comfort- 
ably around the stove, with a paper in one hand and a pan 
of apples in the other, when whoop ! she goes ! It seems 
as if some one had fired a bullet into his jaw, and he leaps 
up and down and kicks out behind and grabs at his face. 
" ISTow, "Watkins, do be patient!" says his wife, as she 
runs after cotton and camphor. 

He holds his mouth open and she puts the cotton in, 
having soaked it with camphor. He gets a swallow of the 
liquid, which goes down the wrong pipe, and he gives a 
yell and a snort, and his eyes stick out like the wallet of a 
back-pay Congressman. 

" Oh ! now, Watkins, don't be so 
awful fractious!" she says in a sooth- 
ing voice, looking on the floor for the 
cotton. 

" Fractious !" he screams ; " you 
couldn't bear it a second ! It would 
kill fourteen women in a minute !" . fl 

It gets a little easier as he holds his ' almost smiles. 
face to the stove, and he almost smiles as he remembers the 

88 




AN INVOLUNTARY ACROBAT. 89 

pain of a moment ago. He is convinced that some nun 
would have torn the house right down, and he flatters him- 
self that he is a very patient man. Mrs. Watkins takes up 
her knitting again and proceeds to narrow the heel, when 
Watkins gives another sudden yell. "Oh! hoky! oh! my 
stars !" he shouts, as he dances around on one foot, with 
his teeth hard shut. 

"Samuel, you should not take an oath," says the wife in 
a reproving tone. "Remember that the wicked shall not 
live out half " 

"Live the old Satan!" he roars, striking his ear against 
the hot stove. " Get a mustard plaster and a bag of ashes, 
and some peppermint and some laudanum!" 

The patient Mrs. Watkins says that there isn't any mus- 
tard, or peppermint, or laudanum, in the house, and that 
she doesn't believe a bag of ashes would do any good. 

" Don't you remember my brother William ?" she asks. 
"In the fall of '57 he had just sueh a time as this, and 
nothing would " 

"Shut up!" roars Watkins, trying to stuff some cotton 
into the hole in the tooth. " What do I care about your 
brother Bill !" 

The smarting of his ear eases the tooth a little, and 
Watkins begins to hope that it is all over. The pain dies 
away and a broad smile covers his face. Some men would 
have routed out the whole neighborhood, and had the fire- 
alarm sounded, but he had been very patient. 

"Samuel, did you see that Johnny put the white cow in 
the east lot, and the black ox in the " 

"Black devils!" whoops Watkins, as the nerve jumps 
again. " Hang the black cow, and the white lot, and the 
east ox, and you too! Oh, my tooth! I shan't live three 
minutes !" 

"Oh! now Samuel !" entreats Mrs. Watkins, trying to 
pat him on the bark. 



90 



BOOTS IN THE REAR. 



" Oh, hang it ! cuss it ! dang !" he yells back. " I'm an 
old sinner if I don't murder somebody!" 

About every third night, Watkins has one of these spells. 
He used to send for me until, one night, I suggested that 
he should go to the dentist, and that after the dentist had 
cut around the tooth, and jabbed a wire against the nerve, 
and let his forceps slip off once or twice, he would worry 
the old stub out or break it off. My little speech went 
right to his heart, and as I slid out doors both his boots 
struck the front gate. 







SOME INDIAN RELICS. 



WAS over to see Cloyster's collection of Indian rel- 



1 



., ics the other day. Cloyster takes a deep interest in 
Indians and relics of Indians, and I don't hlame him, as 
his grandmother was scalped, his grandfather burned at the 
stake, and his father was an Indian agent on the plains, 
and was cooked for dinner by a Blackfoot chief named 
Ilezekiah MoFadden, or some such thing. 

Cloyster has been years gathering his collection, and he 
knows that they are genuine. I stood before a relic of 
Pontiac, and I felt awed and solemn. The hat which the 
great chieftain wore in battle, to fires, 
Fourth of July parades, and on all 
important occasions, was before me, 
looking just as fresh and balmy as the 
^ day when he carefully placed it on a 
Jcst as fresh" l°g an d s pit on his hands for a wrestle 

with death. Poor Ponty ! Death cut him off just as lie 
had got to be somebody, and they buried him so recklessly 
that his grave cannot now be found. 

And there was a relic of old Okemos, 
after whom a Michigan town has been 
named. It is the only relic 
of him in any one's posses- 1 
sion, and Cloyster would not $$\H\ ^_ A % 
part with it for money. As v ^^^^iC^ 
I took it in my hands and " westward hok! 

surveyed it more closely, I seemed to stand in the presence 

91 





92 NEVER PARTED HIS HAIR BEHIND. 

of the departed dead. The sad, solemn face of the dead 
chieftain rose before me, and I could almost imagine I saw 
him with that relic on his shoulder, making his way to a 
corn-field, or sitting on a log to kill time. He was a good 
man, and we may not look upon his like again. He never 
amounted to much on orthography and grammar, but he 
didn't have any less respect from those who knew him 
well. There wasn't money enough in the world to have 
hired Mr. Okemos to part his hair behind, or to wear lav- 
ender pants. 

In the next case was a relic of White Horse, a noted 
Indian chief, who used to have his headquarters in the 
Saginaw Valley, and who died owing more borrowed 
money than his heirs can ever pay. It gave me many sol- 
emn thoughts as I stood before that last memento of one 

whose hideous war-whoops 
^H once carried dread and dis- 
may to a hundred bosoms. 

AXED OUT BV DEATH. J^ ^ ft ^^ figfc^ fc^ 

it can't be remembered now that he ever bit or gouged or 
pulled hair. His parents could never induce him to attend 
Thursday evening prayer-meetings or forenoon Sunday 
schools when a boy, and he is charged with having forged 
mortgages and passed wild-cat bills. However, he is dead 
now, and all right-hearted people will drop a tear or two 
as they look upon Cloyster's relic. 

A little further down was a sad memento of the celebra- 
ted Chippewa chief To-ge-na, or Laugh- 
ing Thunder. Poor man ! He's dead, 
too ! He used to have his headquarters 
in Wisconsin, and he was a king-bee in 
his day. As the noonday sun streamed = gSI 
in at the window and fell upon the old . double x-tra. 
relic it seemed to illuminate it and bring" out all its sad and 





THE SOFT, SAD WIND. 93 

tender points and memories. I gave myself up to revery, 
and for a moment I seemed to see Laughing Thunder 
meandering through the virgin forests again, and I fancied 
I could hear his voice above the roar of battle, crying out : 
"Don't give up the ship!" 

He is spoken of by those who knew him, as a perfect 
gentleman, a tender husband and a loving father. He had 
some few bad habits, such as being out late nights, shaking 
dice to see who should pay for the drinks, and the like of 
that, but what can you expect of an Indian who never went 
to school or knew anything about mineralogy, anatomy or 
botany until he was a man grown ? 

One of the other relics, a jug, was a relic of Gray Eagle, 
a noted Sioux chief, who used to have a ranch out in Ari- 
zona. I believe he waited on the table when Cloyster's 
father was served up, but as Cloyster can never mention 
that little incident without being affected to tears, I haven't 
secured all the little particulars. He just lumped the story 
oft' to me whole, the same way they baked his father. 

The soft wind sighed sadly around the 
window as I gazed at the interesting 
relic, and the sound came to my ears 
like the voices of Indian children wail- 
ing over the loss of their great chieftain. 
Gray Eagle is no more ! He has been 
"jtoged?" " no more" for these long, long years 

past. His ashes have been scattered, a Denver butcher 
chops meat with his tomahawk, and Mrs. Gray Eagle mar- 
ried a fellow who didn't even know r how to make cider. 

Cloyster had other relics, but I didn't stay to look them 
over. The faces of the departed dead kept rising before 
me, and every moan of the wind was an accusing voice. 
The big, two-story Indians are falling by the wayside every 
day, and it won't be long before the red man and his red 




9-4 A PROSPECTIVE LUNCH. 

squaw and children will live only in the memory of the 
white man. One by one they are being checked for the 
happy hunting grounds. Every day or two the sighing 
wind bears another spirit away. The salt pork and light- 
ning-fluid served out by the Government agents is knock- 
ing the Big Bears and the Rolling Thunders and the 
Howling Panthers into the middle of next week, and the 
day must come when the last remnant of a once powerful 
race will furnish an afternoon lunch for some enterprising 
wolf. 
It makes one feel bad. 



* 




ON THE CORONER'S JURY. 



go 

JILT is a solemn business to sit on the coroner's jury 
i> and be one of six men selected to "thoroughly inves- 
tigate and truly find " how the deceased came to his death. 
I was never on such a jury, but I've hung around in a 
reportorial capacity and waited for the verdict, and been 
awed and overpowered by the majestic look of the coroner 
himself, as he rapped on his old pine table and remarked : 

" Gentlemen of the jury, remove your hats and be 
sworn." 

Modern coroners are selected for their profundity of 
thought, astuteness, philosophy and fitness. Most of them 
would be governors, major-generals, or in the President's 
cabinet, if they were not filling the position c£ coroner. 

The average coroner has his office around the corner and 
up three pairs of stairs, or in the back end of a carpenter 
si Kip. This location is not selected with a view to secure 
cheap rent, but the coroner must have time to read up on 
history, astronomy, gravitation, natural philosophy, and 
so forth, and he must be where the public can't disturb 
him. 

Every coroner's office should be furnished with a map of 
the Sandwich Islands, two chairs without backs, a stove 
with one leg missing, a dime novel, an old day-book, a saw 
horse, and as many old barrels as his pecuniary standing 
will justify. The windows should never be washed, and 

95 



96 



REQUIRES MEN OF STANDING. 



if any one attempts to slick up the room he should be shot 
dead and buried in a marsh. 

When a citizen falls dead on the street with heart dis- 
ease it is the duty of the coroner to proceed to the spot 
where the body lies, hand some one his hat, swell out his 
chest, and call out : 

" If them there boys don't stand back and git away I'll 
send 'em to the station !" 

The next step is to empanel a jury. In olden times cor- 
oners used to take any body and every body from the 

crowd around the victim, but the 
modern coroner looks for men of 
standing, and he halts not until 
he finds them — men who are 
standing on the corners most of 
their time, or standing in front 
of bars. When the roll has been 
called the coroner swears the jury 
to investigate the cause of death, 
even if it requires years of deep- 
est study, and they gather around 
the body, notice whether the ears 
are large or small; whether the 
boots are sewed or pegged ; how 
many buttons there are on the tail 
of the coat; find out whether he 
was married or single, and the 
inquest is then adjourned for one 
day to give them time to wrestle 
with the problem. 
Next day at an appointed hour the jurymen assemble, 
the coroner takes a scat on a nail-keg, behind the old table, 
raps on the floor with the coal stove shaker, and asks in a 
terrible voice : 




'If Them There Boys." 



CASH IN THIRTY DAYS. 



97 



" Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a 
verdict ?" 

" We have," answers the foreman. 
"What is it?" 

"We find that the deceased came to his 
death by falling into the canal !" 

The coroner records the verdict, the jury 
Foreman. cover their heads, and the reporters dare to 
come a little nearer. Then the coroner rises up, waves 
his hand and says : 

" Boys, there's a dollar coming to each of you, and some 
time next month I'll hand it in." 
And that ends that case. 





THAT SMITH BOY. 




neighborhood used to be a quiet 
neighborhood. The street is paved 
with wood, is far from business, and 
hydrants, tree-boxes and hitching- 
posts used to have a clean, prim 
and reserved look. The midnight cat 
avoided us, book agents and lightning- 
rod peddlers passed us by, and we lived 
as quietly and solemnly as if every man's next door neigh- 
bor was dead. 

That Smith boy came into the neighborhood, and now 
all is changed. His parents died, and his aunt took him 
in from motives of love and sympathy. He had scarcely 
been taken in when he proceeded to take the rest of us in. 
The fiendish genius of that boy is appalling. He was 
brought over from " Plug-town " about five o'clock in the 
afternoon, and before sundown he had " licked " no less 
than seven of our boys, unhinged three gates, and sounded 
a false alarm of fire. 

A few of us held a mass convention that evening and 
decided to coerce that Smith boy — peaceably if we could, 
forcibly if we had to. I was appointed a committee of one 
to wait upon him and give him to understand that he must 
lay aside his " Plug-town " peculiarities if he would remain 
in our midst. 

08 



CAN TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF. 09 

At daylight next morning we were aroused by the loud 
reports of a musket, and yells of " 'Iiah for our side !" and 
before breakfast was finished that Smith boy had painted 
several lamp-posts with red, white and blue, making a bar- 
ber-pole of each one. When I came across him he was 
boring a hole in the base of a shade tree and arranging for 
an explosion. I smiled kindly, and said to him : 
" Good morning, bub." 
" Morning, old two-and-six !" he replied. 
" Are you that Smith boy ?" I asked. 
" I'll bet on't !" he answered. 

"I'm glad to meet you," I continued; "I hope you'll be 
a good boy, go to school, and not make us any trouble. If 
you are good we shall all like you." 

"I kin take keer of myself, old Limburger!" he answered, 
giving my dog a kick. 

That day he thrashed four more boys, broke three win- 
dows, stole two or three dogs, and hooked a bed-quilt from 
his aunt and set up a circus tent on a vacant lot. His aunt 
said we had liberty to argue with him, and Mr. Stevens 
bribed him into his yard and tried to hire 
him to be good. He talked to the boy a 
full half-hour about Heaven, the angels, 
Sunday school, and so forth, and was 
expecting every minute that the lad would 
break down and shed tears, when the 
young villain rose up and said : 
" Well, I guess I'll walk off on my 

Playing Circus. ,,, 

ear! 

"Won't you be good?" pleaded Mr. Stevens, following 
him to the gate. 

" Oh ! hire a band to march behind you !" sneered the 
boy, as he lounged off. 

That night he stretched a rope across the walk and 




100 MAKING THINGS STEP HIGH. 

almost killed three or four persons, and when old Mr. Gol- 
den came to the door in answer to a wild ring of his door- 
bell, he was struck in the eye with a tomato and nearly 
blinded. 

It is several months since that Smith boy came into our 
neighborhood, and any property owner will tell you that 
real estate has actually declined ten per cent on his account. 
He has pulled several door-bells out by the roots, blown up 
the sidewalks with gunpowder, destroyed shade trees, 
stopped up our chimneys, and there has been nothing left 
undone on his part to " make things step high around 
there." When we saw that kind words were lost upon 
him it was agreed to make him fear us. I caught him and 
nearly shook his boots off, but in the midst of my exulta- 
tion he built a bonfire under my buggy. Mr. Stevens 
shook him, and Mr. Stevens soon had $12 worth of plate 
glass broken by a stone. Mr. Brown cuffed the young 
terror's ears, and Mr. Brown's coach dog was found dead 
next morning. 

The only peaceful interval we have had was when the 
police had him locked up for three days and nights. It 
seemed like Sunday in the neighborhood, and real estate 
evinced a disposition to bound right up. "We were hoping 
that we had the boy on the hip, though feeling sorry to 
think he would bring up in the House of Correction, when 
he was discharged. His arrival home was signalized by a 
shot-gun serenade, a bonfire in the street, the breaking of 
two windows and the wounding of a dog ; and he was up 
at four o'clock next morning prying off door plates and 
painting front steps. 

I don't know what we can do with that boy, except to 
have the law so amended that we can gently kill him. 



THAT INSURANCE AGENT. 



JJTOA'YTN'G- him on sight, I told him that I didn't 
want any of his life insurance — his blasted 
life insurance, I believe I said — but it didn't 
■ \ ll make any difference with him. He followed 
me down the street, smiling as good naturedly 
as if I had promised to remember him in my 
will, and he said : 

"Better take out a policy now — terms 
low — mutual company — thirty-three dol- 
lars — note at sixty days — class 'A' — Benjamin Franklin 
advised life insurance." 

He let me alone for a day or two, or, rather, I remained 
in the house to avoid him, but he was waiting on the cor- 
ner to seize me. I replied that I didn't want any life 
insurance ; that I wouldn't have any ; that if he insured 
me I'd go right off and commit suicide and defraud his 
company; that I carried a pistol to shoot life insurance 
agents ; but his countenance never changed in the least. 
There was the same plaintive appeal in his left eye, and the 
same good-natured smile on his face as he took my arm 
and said : 

" Rates going up — big dividend to policy-holders — com- 
pany established in 1840 — surplus three millions — a Chris- 
tian's duty to look out for his widow." 

101 



102 A JUMP AND A GOUGE. 

I didn't see him again for two days, and was hoping that 
he had been run over or had come down with the small- 
pox, when he suddenly called at the office. He said he'd 
dropped in to see about that little insurance matter. I told 
him that his grandfather was a horse-thief; that all his 
uncles had been hung for murder, and that all his aunts 
were Mormons, but it didn't move him. He said he had a 
policy with him and wouldn't charge a cent commission to 
make it out, though he knew of fellows who charged two 
dollars. I told him that he might go to Texas ; that I could 
lick him in three minutes ; that I'd knock his head off if 
he didn't get down stairs ; but that smile was just the same 
as he said : 

" Took twenty-one policies yesterday — 
sound company — best men in town — every 
policy-holder a stock-holder — rates as low 
as any reliable company — George Wash- 
ington was insured with us." 

I hired a fireman to waylay him, but he 

got away. I sent an insane man to his 

house and hoped he'd mangle him, but he mangled the 

lunatic instead. It wasn't three days before he called at 

the house, instead of waiting to take me on the street. 

I dragged him off the steps and jumped on him and 
gouged his eye, and told him that I'd be hung for his mur- 
der if ever I caught him on my street again. He didn't 
even get out of patience, but mildly inquired my age, occu- 
pation, nativity, and date of marriage, and wanted to know 
if my father or mother died of consumption. I called for 
the police, and kicked him again, and set the dog on him, 
but as he wandered off up the street I heard him saying : 
" Offer better rates than any other reliable company — 
mutual dividends — take no risks on old men — doing a safe 
business — Michigan agents hiring steam engines to help 
write out policies." 




A QUERY. 



103 



I don't know what I shall do with him. I sometimes 
wonder if Noah allowed the life insurance agent, the book 
canvasser, the man with the patent weather strips and the 
boy with the hat rack to enter his ark, and if he did, why 
he didn't throw them overboard in water four hundred 
feet deep. 




JACK'S BOY. 



'OU can imagine the surprise of "Buttermilk Dig- 
gings" at being aroused one night at midnight by 
the cry of a child, when we hadn't seen or heard a " chick " 
since leaving the States. 

The men were rough in looks, some of them wicked, and 
the Diggings were so far beyond civilization that women 
and children were sometimes spoken of or dreamed about, 
but never seen. 

"Without the least warning the cry of a child arose on 
the midnight air, penetrated the huts, and the sleeping men 
awoke and wondered if they had heard aright. They 
sprang up, rushed out, and found that there actually was 
a child in camp. 

At an early hour in the morning Big Ben Raynor and 
three or four men had departed for a gulch a dozen miles 
away to purchase supplies, and this was the party, safely 
returned, which had the boy in charge, for the child was a 
boy — a handsome little fellow about four years old. They 
had found him on the trail beside a dead man — a grizzly 
old miner who was apparently coming up to the Diggings, 
but whose strength gave out when five miles distant. Our 
men tried to solve the mystery, but there wasn't a scrap of 
writing about the dead man to establish his identity, and 
the boy had but one answer to all inquiries : 

"I'm Jack's boy!" 

He wouldn't say a word about father or mother, brother 

104 




/ 



TAKE ME TO JACK. 105 

or sister, and was too young to realize the mystery of death. 
He thought the dead man had fallen asleep, and was 
patiently waiting for him to awake. Our men buried the 
corpse as well as they could, picked up the boy and came 
on, and in five minutes after they entered the Diggings 
every man on the side-hill was out to look upon the boy 
and become excited over his arrival. 

It was a strange fix for a mining town — to have a pale- 
faced innocent child suddenly thrown into the arms of men 
who would as quick thought of buying a canary bird. The 
child was tired and sleepy, and fell asleep with all the 
crowd around him and some of the men touching his face 
and hair "to see if he was alive or stuffed." 

Big Ben had carried the boy from where the dead man 
was found, and he wouldn't give him up to any of us. He 
placed the child on his own blanket, cleared the cabin, and 
we had to wait until daylight before curiosity was further 
gratified. The men gathered in groups and talked the 
balance of the night away, each one having a theory in 
regard to the presence of the child in that wild country, 
but no one was able to clear away the mystery. Some 
thought the dead miner was the boy's father; others 
thought the man had stolen or found the lad, and all were 
very anxious to learn further particulars.. Those who 
hoped to have the mystery solved were doomed to disap- 
pointment. The boy awoke about seven o'clock in the 
morning, and his first words were : 

" Where's Jack — take me to Jack !" 

I might as well tell you here that the mystery continued 
a mystery. For days and days the boy called out for his 
dead friend, making our hearts sore with his wail, and all 
our questions failed to bring us the information we sought 
for. After four or five weeks he took to Big Ben and 
grew more contented, but we could see that something 



106 A STREAM OF GLORY. 

was wearing on him. His presence almost stopped work 
in the Diggings. He was a curiosity — a sort of menagerie, 
and the men were never tired of watching his movements 
and listening to his childish words. He wasn't exactly 
afraid of any of us, yet he would trust no one but Big Ben. 

That was strange, too, for Ben was one of the roughest 
men in the Diggings, and no one dreamed that he had a 
tender spot in his heart. We noticed a change in him, 
however, within two or three days after the arrival of the 
little stranger, and after a month it was a rare thing for 
him to use an oath. The boy slept on his arm every night, 
and was near him most of every day, yet he didn't act 
as a boy of that age should. He moped and pined, grew 
paler and poorer every day, and we realized at last that we 
had got to lose him. 

One morning the news spread around that he was ill of 
fever, and we knocked off work. Big Ben sat with the 
boy in his arms and tears in his eyes, and for the next three 
days and nights the big-hearted giant never closed his eyes 
in sleep. Jack's boy noticed none of us, made no com- 
plaints, and never spoke except to say : 

" I'm Jack's boy — I want to see Jack I" 

The end came at sundown one afternoon. All were tear- 
ful, and some of the men could not speak as they gathered 
around Big Ben's cabin. The giant miner held the boy 
close to his bosom, as if he could keep death away, and 
his big tears fell upon the lad's marble-like face. ~Not a 
word was spoken as the bareheaded men watched the com- 
ing of death. The setting sun poured a stream of glory 
into the rude and smoke-stained hut, and the warm light 
touched the dying boy's face and rippled and waved across 
it as if rocking him to sleep with angel's hand. The rays 
fell upon Big Ben, and we wondered that we had never 
seen the soft lines in his face before. 



ANGELS TAKE HIM IN THEIR ABMS. 107 

Just when the departing sun seemed to gather strength 
and pour all its golden beams over the dying hoy, as if to 
purify him for Heaven's atmosphere, we saw him gasp 
once or twice, his chin fall, and then we knew that the 
angels had taken him in their arms. 

"Jack's boy is in Heaven!" whispered Big Ben, a sob 
in his throat, and he kissed the face of the dead and put 
the little body down with a mother's tenderness. 

There should be flowers on the grave — we planted them 
there, and the wild wind coming down the lonesome, rug- 
ged canyon should soften as it reaches the branches of the 
tree at whose foot the grave was sorrowfully hollowed out. 

Poor Jack's boy — strange mystery ! 




A PARTICULAR GIRL. 



T\5^7"AY back in the pioneer days of Michigan, when 
;»£)* log houses contained parlor, kitchen, bedroom and 
all in one large room, a couple of travelers put up for the 
night at a cabin on the Grand River plank road. The 
family consisted of three persons, father, mother and 
daughter, the latter being sixteen or seventeen years old. 
There were two beds in the room, and the old woman fixed 
up a " shake-down " for the travelers. 




About ten o'clock conversation was exhausted, and after 

108 



TIME TO TUMBLE IX. 109 

the family had held a whispered conversation in a corner 
the old man advanced to the travelers and said: 

" It's time to tumble in, and I must ask ye to step out 
door until the gal and the old woman git under cover. I 
hain't modest, and the old woman don't care a skip, but the 
gal is a leetle pertickler, and if ye'll jist step out till I hol- 
ler it'll be doin' her a powerful favor." 

The travelers waited outside the door until the old man 
" hollered," and he further excused himself by remarking : 

" Yes, Marier's gittin' mighty pertickler, and I'll bet it 
won't be three month afore she'll want shoes and stockins 
and a breast-pin !" 

" I won't nuther !" answered the girl. 

" "Well, I hope not," sighed the old man. " Marier's a 
good girl, and it would just about use me'n the old woman 
up if she got so proud that she wanted soap every time she 
washed her hands, and ile for her ha'r whenever she heard 
a land-looker holler !" 




BRIGHAM YOUNG'S WIFE. 



<£o 



5TL WAS in Salt Lake the other day, and hearing some 
^ one say that Brigham Young had lost his wife, I went 
up to the cemetery to view the spot where she rested — all 
that was earthly of her, and so forth. 

I found the spot without difficulty. A plain head-stone 
conveyed the sad intelligence that her name 
was Hannah, and that she died in the thirty- 
eighth year of her age. There was a verse of 
poetry on the stone — to the 




effect that she might expect 

to meet him in Heaven after 

life's troubles were o'er and 

he had got through with the His WlFE ' S g rave . 

marrying business. 

I thought how sad it was for a man only eighty-seven 
years of age to lose his wife just when he was prepared to 
enjoy life, and I wondered if he wouldn't get reckless, auc- 
tion off his household furniture, join the Sons of Malta, 
and walk around with his hat on the back of 
his head. 

Going along a little further I discovered that 
the Prophet had lost his wife. 



Her tombstone was before 
me, and her name, while she 
lived in this cold world, was 
Jane. Yes, the poor old man 
had suffered a great domestic affliction 

110 




His Wife's Grave. 

Jane had expired 



SAMANTHA AND FLORA. 



Ill 




His Wife's Grave. 



at the age of thirty-one — -just about the time a woman 
begins to take a deep interest in circus processions and the 
suffrage question. While he might have planned to take 
two or three hundred Fourth of July excursions with her, 
Death stepped in and she ceased to adorn his ranch any 
more. I pitied him, and I hoped that his mother-in-law 
didn't come around and boss the funeral arrangements and 
charge him with having broken Jane's heart by throwing 
cold glances across the dinner table. 

Turning around the corner I was suddenly 
made aware of the painful fact that Mrs. Brig- 
ham Young was dead. Yes, there was her 
tombstone, saying that Death 
had come serenading around 
his harem and abducted his 
dear Samantha, while yet •? 
she was enjoying the fortieth 
year of her existence. Few men who have not lost a wife 
by elopement or death know how it wrenches the heart- 
strings when a sorrowing husband sits down in his desolate 
house and reflects that he has got to build the fires, shake 
down the coal stove and saw all the w r ood for the kitchen 
stove. I could imagine just how the sad blow had doubled 
the old man up, and how r he walked out in the shady lane 
behind his house and felt as if he should never 
have the heart to sit down of an evening with 
another comic almanac. 

Half-way down to the gate 
I came upon the spot where 
all that was mortal of Mrs. 
Brigham Young had been 
laid away. It was the grave His wife's Grav*. 

of his dear wife Flora, and she was cut down like a flower 
when only twenty-eight years of age. She had doubtless 




112 HER NAME WAS CLARINDA. 

just got to loving the old man for himself entirely, and Death 
stepped in and left him to go ahead alone, and grope in 
heathen ignorance of how many cups of sugar it takes for 
a quart of cranberry sauce, or when is the best time to cut 
slippery-elm bark. His happy household had been dark- 
ened, his heart made sore, and his old age rendered a 
double burden. As I leaned over the tombstone I won- 
dered how it would seem to the afflicted husband not to be 
asked if he could spare ten dollars for a hat, live for a bead 
belt and fifteen for a set of curls, and how lonely he'd be 
when he went home on election nights and there'd be no 
one to stand in the hall and call him pet names and say 
that she'd burst the chains that linked her to such a 
monster. 

As I was going out of the gate I happened 
to discover that Brigham Young had sustained 
a great loss. There was his wife's grave before 
me. The headstone said that 
her name was Clarinda, and 
that she was a week or so 
over forty-five years of age — '% 
though she probably called His wife's grave. 

herself about thirty. There wasn't any poetry on the stone 
to tell the traveler whether she was a XXX wife, or only a 
common sort of partner, but I knew just how the afflicted 
husband felt when Death spread his mantle o'er the little 
household. He didn't have any one to pass the fried pork 
and potatoes across the table — no one to oil his hair Sun- 
day mornings — no one to go down to the grocery after his 
raw oysters when he had the colic. If he wanted a mus- 
tard plaster for his neck, some one to pare his corns, or the 
baby was taken sick in the night, he couldn't boss any one 
around any more. 

I was going away when I encountered a stranger, who 







THE MORTAL REMAINS. 



113 



wanted to know if I had heard that Brigham Young's wife 
was dead. He offered to show me her grave, and I went 
with him and saw where the mortal remains of the dear 
partner lay. 




THE BOYS AROUND THE HOUSE. 




iIJRELY, you must have seen a boy of 
eight or ten years of age get ready 
for bed? His shoe-strings are in a 
hard knot, and after a few vain 
efforts to unlace them he rushes after 
a case-knife and saws each string in 
two. One shoe is thrown under the 
table, the other behind the stove, 
his jacket behind the door, and his 
Ms stockings are distributed over as many 
chairs as they will reach. 
The boy doesn't slip his pants off; he struggles out of 
them, holding a leg down with his foot and drawing his 
limbs out after many stupendous efforts. While doing this 
his hands are clutched into the bedclothes, and by the time 
he is ready to get into bed the quilts and sheets are awry 
and the bed is full of humps and lumps. His brother has 
gone through the same motions, and both finally crawl 
into bed. They are good boys, and they love each other, 
but they are hardly settled on their backs when one cries 
out: 

"Hitch along!" 

" I won't !" bluntly replies the other. 

114 



THE BEAR STORY. 115 

" Ma, Bill's got more'n half the bed!" cries the first. 

" Hain't either, ma!" replies Bill. 

There is a moment of silence, and then the first exclaims : 

" Git yer feet off'n me !" 

" They hain't touching you !" is the answer. 

" Yes they be, and you're on my pillar, too !" 

" Oh ! my stars, what a whopper ! You'll never go to 
Heaven !" 

The mother looks into the bedroom and kindly says ; 

" Come, children, be good and don't make your mother 
any trouble." 

" Well," replies the youngest, "if Bill '11 tell me a bear 
story I'll go to sleep." 

The mother withdraws, and Bill starts out : 

" Well, you know, there was an old bear who lived in a 
cave. He was a big black bear. He had eyes like coals 
of fire, you know, and when he looked at a feller he " 

" Ma, Bill's scaring me !" yells Henry, sitting on end. 

"Oh, ma! that's the awfullest story you ever heard!" 
replies Bill. 

" Hitch along, I say !" exclaims Henry. 

" I am along !" replies Bill. 

" Git your knee out'n my back !" 

" Hain't anywhere near ye !" 

" Gimme some cloze !" 

" You've got more'n half now !" 

" Come, children, do be good and go to sleep," says the 
mother, entering the room and arranging the clothes. 

They doze oft' after a few muttered words, to preserve 
the peace until morning, and it is popularly supposed that 
an angel sits on each bed-post to sentinel either curly head 
during the long, dark hours. 

" Ilo-hum !" yawns Bill. 

" Ho-hum !" yawns Henry. 



116 THE MORNING HUNT. 

It is morning, and they crawl out of bed. After four or 
five efforts they get into their pants, and then reach out for 
stockings. 

"I know I put mine right down here by this bed!" 
exclaims Bill. 

" And I put mine right there by the end of the bureau !" 
adds Henry. 

They wander around, growling and jawing, and the 
mother finally finds the stockings. Then comes the jackets. 
They are positive that they hung them on the hooks, and 
boldly charge that some malicious person wickedly removed 
them. And so it goes until each one is finally dressed, 
washed and ready for breakfast, and the mother feels such 
a burden off" her mind that she can endure what follows 
their leaving the table — a good halt-hour's hunt after their 
hats, which they " positively hung up," but which are at 
last found under some bed or stowed away behind the 
wood-box. 




THE DEBATING SOCIETY AT BLACK WOLF MINE. 




BOUT two hundred of us, more or less, were 
fe engaged in silver mining under the shadow 
, of one of Nevada's grandest mountains. 
-"We had card-playing, singing, fiddling. 
target-shooting, horse-racing and fighting 
for amusement, hut there was still some- 
^(Vc)y& thing lacking. We didn't know what it 
was until Colonel Pick jumped on to a stump one night, 
yelled " order !" and said : 

"Feller-citizens — Ar' we hethuns or honest white 
men ? Do we mean to keep on living like sinners, or ar' 
we goin' to git up sunthin' to improve our intellecks ? I've 
bin a-thinkin' that we hain't doin' our duty as edecated 
Americans, and I go in fur a debatin' society. Yes, Less 
git up a debatin' society, and raise nashanul questions, and 
discuss 'em, and do sunthin' to improve our minds." 

" Whoop ! That's her — glory for she !" yelled the men 
around him, and it was at once decided that we organize a 
society for intellectual improvement. 

Colonel Pick and Silver Jim were deputized to decide 
on a title for the society, and to draft by-laws, and the next 
evening they announced that the society would be known 
as "The Muchul Mentle Debatin' and [mproavement 
Society," and they submitted the following by-laws, which 
were approved with a yell : 

117 



118 



A PICK-ED PRESIDENT. 



1. We meet every Wednesday night. 

2. No cussin'. 

3. The president shall hold office a month. 

4. No reptile shall speak over five minutes. 

5. ISTo gougin' or bitin'. 

6. Any feller who don't pay his duze shall be histed. 
The orthography belongs to the Colonel, who was 

regarded as a man of great literary ability. 

A dozen of us spent a whole day constructing a big 
shanty and arranging it, and when the society met, Colonel 
Pick was elected president by acclamation. He felt the 
importance of his position, and appreciated the high honor, 
and there were tears in his eyes as he arose and began : 

" Feller-citizens of Black Wolf — This ar' an honor which 
I didn't suspect — blast me if I did ! I didn't want no offis, 
but I won't go back on you. I thank you much times. 
I'll try and do the squar' thing by everybody. I hain't 

much of a public speaker, and 
I can't say much. I'm kinder 
embarrassed and flopped !" 

The first two debates passed 
off all right, probably owing to 
the fact that the Colonel was 
left to do most of the talking. 
Most of the men were shy about 
standing up, and some couldn't 
have said twenty words if death 
had been the alternative. 

When not on his feet the 
Colonel sat cross-legged on a 
barrel, looking very dignified and consequential, and lie 
frequently remarked : 

" Gentlemen, this 'ere debate ar' open to everybody." 
One of the miners, named Lanky Fox, who had been 




The Colonel. 



CARRIED INTO AFRICA. 119 

over to Grizzly Rise for two weeks, returned just before 
the third weekly meeting. He was a conceited fellow, 
having a ready tongue, and he spent one day fixing him- 
self up for the debate, meaning to demolish any one who 
dared take the opposing side of the question. 

There was a committee of three to select subjects for 
debate, and on that night, as I well remember, the bulletin 
board bore the following : 




Lanky Fox took the affirmative side and opened the 
debate. In the course of his remarks he spoke about mis- 
sionary work in Africa, when the Colonel jumped up and 
said : 

" What hez this debate got to do with Afriky ? Mister 
Fox is out of order, and will please squat !" 

" I appeal to the society to sustain me in my position," 
replied Fox. 

" You can't 'peel to nuthin', sir !" continued the Colonel, 
" and you can't bluff this 'ere society down with big words ! 
You've got to prance off the stage fur bein' out of order !" 

"Have you any precedent for sustaining an arbitrary 
decision of this sort?" inquired Lanky Fox, looking around 
the audience. 

Those were twice as big words as the Colonel could use, 
and they made his hair stand. Ho rose up, spit on his 
hands, and said : 



120 



RETURNED TO POKER. 



" I'm goin' to presarve order here if it takes a leg ! Git 
down from thar', mister man !" 

" This tyranny " commenced Fox, but the Colonel 

sprang upon him. 




" Prancing." 



There was an awful fight. We all wanted fun, and we 
kicked the lights out and went in, and for fifteen minutes, 
or until the shanty fell down, everybody struck out for 
himself. After the row the Colonel mounted a rock, the 
blood trickling from his bitten ear, and his nose swelled to 
twice its usual size, and he remarked : 

" Feller-sinners — I herefore and hereby resign my posi- 
tion as boss of this 'ere debatin' society, and after this I'm 
goin' to advance my intelleck by playing the best game of 
poker of any heathen in Black Wolf Camp !" 

That was, I believe, the first and last effort ever made to 
raise the social standing of our gulch. 



GOING TO FUNERALS. 




)HAT amiable Mrs. Harkins stopped in 
yesterday as she was on her way home 
from the funeral. She said the corpse 
didn't look a bit natural, and she was 
almost sorry that she went. Mrs. Har- 
kins makes it a business to attend 
funerals, and what she says can be relied on. 
As soon as she hears that any one is likely 
to die, she pays them a visit, and if death ensues 
and she can get a chance to " sit up with the 
*Qj? cor p Se> » s he is there on time, and she never leaves 
until she has seen the grave filled up. 

And Mrs. High is another. She doesn't take the least 
interest in the spring styles or neighborhood scandals, but 
let any one die and she is all attention. She wants to know 
what they died of; whether they were prepared ; whether 
they mentioned anything about her as they went off; 
whether they kicked around or died quietly; and if they 
requested to be buried in white or black. Tben she visits 
the house of mourning. As she enters by the back way 
she commences to get her mourning look on, and by the 
time she gets through to the front room one would think 
she had lost five children at once. 

121 



122 



SILVER NAILS IN IT. 



" How very natural — seems as if he was sleeping," she 
whispers, as she bends over the dead. 

Then she takes off her bonnet and assumes charge of the 
house, sending word to her family that they must get along 
without her as best they can until she has performed her 
duty. 




On The Trail. 



And Mrs. Jobkins is another. If any one dies without 
her having heard that they were likely to go she can't for- 
give herself for a month. On the day of the funeral she 
sends her children away, has Jobkins take his dinner to 
the shop, and she puts on black and attends. She com- 
mences to shed tears when she leaves home, and only ends 
when she returns. She always secures the best seat in the 
best hack, is the first one at the grave, remembers all 
about the sermon, and five years from that day she can tell 
who cried and who didn't; whether the corpse looked 
natural or otherwise ; how many carriages were out, and 
in fact all about it. 

Once when I was down with fever the old ghoul heard 
that I was going to die. She came over on the gallop, and 
as she sat down by the bed she said to my wife : 

" Of course you'll have a black velvet coffin, trimmed 
with silver nails, and real lace around the inside." 

Then she wanted to know if I was prepared ; if I wanted 
to request my wife not to marry again ; if I had ever 



A CASE OF SPITE. 123 

cheated anybody and wanted to ask their forgiveness, and 
she promised me one of the largest funeral processions of 
the season. She was awfully disappointed when I began to 
mend, and she said to one of her friends : 

" It's another o' them cases where he was so wicked he 
couldn't die." 




HOW THE MATE DIED. 



siTO one seemed to know how or when he reached 
the city. He was well along in years, though not 
old. His hair was grizzly, his face sun-burned, and his 
hands showed that he had been a worker. 

It was at a boarding-house where river men find food 
and rest, and the stranger would have passed unnoticed 
had not his wild, strange talk aroused some of the men at 
midnight. His illness was serious, or he would not have 
had such glassy eyes, and such a ghastly look. 

" Haul in, all hands there ; lively lads, ho ! she comes !" 
he called out as the men tried to quiet him. 

The doctor said it was a bad case — some terrible fever 
which the man had been fighting off" for weeks and weeks, 
but which had broken him down at last. 

" Out with the plank, yip ! ha ! lively ! lively ! called the 
patient, as the doctor tried to count his pulse. 

" He must have an opiate first," whispered the doctor, 
and he opened his little case of medicine. His hand passed 
from bottle to bottle until it rested upon the one desired, 
and just then the patient shouted : 

" Hip ! hi ! fly there ! Here, you niggers — speed — fly — 
gallop — rush ! you over there — hip ! Blast your lazy souls ! 
why don't you rush them bar'ls off!" 

" He ought to have been under the doctor's care a week 
ago," whispered the physician, as he softly jostled some of 

124 



HE WAS A DRIVER. 125 

the powder out on the little square sheets of paper pre- 
viously prepared. 

Four or five brawny men had entered the dingy room, 
and they looked from doctor to patient without speaking. 

" Lift up on 'er — up ! up ! yi ! hi ! you niggers ! Why in 
blazes don't you straighten your backs !" called the sick 
man. 

" He's bin mate !" whispered one of the men. 

"And he thinks he's loading up !" added a second. 

" If I can quiet him to-night I'll learn something of his 
case in the morning," said the doctor, as he folded the pow- 
ders into little square packages. " Such men never give 
up until the last hour. See that chest, that neck, that 
arm ! He could have stood up against cholera and yellow 
fever combined, if he had taken care of himself." 

" This way — this way — roll 'em — pile 'em — throw 'em — 
why don't you jerk lightning right out o' those bar'ls!" 
shouted the patient. 

" Thinks he's taking on whisky and flour !" whispered 
one of the men. 

" I'll bet he was a driver," added a second. 

" At one o'clock," said the doctor, ranging the little 
packages in a row, " give him one of these dissolved in a 
spoonful of water, and then one every hour until I return, 
unless he should become quiet." 

" It's pretty ser'us, isn't it, doctor ?" asked one of the 
men. 

" Well, I've seen hundreds of worse cases, but I can't tell 
how the powders will work. He's in for a long run of 
fever, at best, and if he is a stranger and short up, I pity 
him." 

" Hustle — fly — roll that whole wood-pile this way — hip ! 
get out o' your hides, niggers!" exclaimed the patient, his 
glassy eyes following the doctor to the door. 



126 A WHARF-BOAT IN HEAVEN. 

" Thinks lie's wooding up now," whispered one of the 
men. " He was mate all through — that's plain !" 

For a long time the patient whispered to himself, and 
the watchers could only catch a word now and then, but he 
suddenly cried out : 

" Sharp, there ! Sharp ! Out with her — lift ! up ! heave ! 
so she goes! yi!" 

" He's making a landing now," whispered one of the 
men, holding his watch and waiting for one o'clock. 

" There you go !" continued the patient, after a moment — 
" fling 'em — high — lively — great Heavens ! why don't you 
tear splinters off your heels — whoop ! shoo !" 

He was quiet again for five minutes, and one of the men 
mixed the powder with a spoonful of water. They were 
hesitating whether to disturb the sick man, when he sat 
up, threw his arms about and yelled : 

" Crook yer backs, ye black fiends — hup ! ki ! yi ! dust! 
fly ! snatch 'em — great snakes, why don't ye tussel that cot- 
ton at me !" 

He fell back, and when they bent over him he was dead ! 

The men looked at each other in astonishment. They 
could not believe it until there was no longer room for 
doubt. 

" I hope he's got a plain channel!" whispered one, as he 
drew the quilt up. 

" There's no bars on that river!" added a second. 

And as the third pressed the lids down over the sight- 
less, glassy balls, he said : 

" He was a stranger, and I hope the Lord '11 let him 
make fast alongside of a wharf-boat in Heaven !" 



ENOCH ARDEN. 




DON'T see how 
Mr. Tennyson 

was so deceived in 
Enoch 
Arden. 
I have 
just had a talk with 
^ Mr. Arden, and he de- 
nies that he died of a bro- 
ken heart, and flatly con- 
tradicts many other things 
narrated by the English 
poet. 

In the first place Enoch had 
been married just twenty-three 
years when he went sailing, 
and he had been before the 
police justice eighteen 
times for mauling Mrs. 
Arden. His usual way 
of leaving home was 
by dodging through 
the back door to escape a flat-iron, and her usual way of 
welcoming him back was to say : 

127 



Waiting For a Sail. 



128 LEAVES HOME, ETC. 

" "Well, you old mutton-head, what saloon-keeper turned 
you out doors this time ?" 

He left home after a hig family fight, took a sailor's 
berth at $17 per month, and was wrecked as stated. He 
wasn't the only survivor, as Tennyson states. Seven or 
eight others were saved with him, and in the first cut I 
have endeavored to show how Enoch passed his time while 
" waiting for a sail." He didn't suffer for provisions, and 
the only time he ever thought of his family he remarked : 

" I hope that old red-headed wife of mine will run away 
while I'm gone !" 

Well, after a year or two Enoch was rescued, and he 
finally landed in his native village. It was dark as he 




"Things Looked as Usual." 

entered the hamlet, and as he walked along the well-remem- 
bered street he saw that Deacon Tracy had built an addition 
to his house. A new cooper-shop had been erected by some 
one, and some bloated capitalist had started a new under- 
taker's shop. 

When Enoch reached his gate he found everything about 
as usual. The gate hung on one hinge, Jim McGraw's 
pig was rooting up the garden, and an old hoop-skirt was 



STICKS HIS NOSE IN. 129 

swinging from the cherry tree near the house. Enoch 
hoped that the old woman had removed to Texas, and he 
walked softly up and peered into one of the windows. 

Tennyson goes on, you know, to say that the returned 
wanderer saw strange children playing around, saw his 
wife looking sad yet happy, and that a strange man was 
there as her husband. Enoch didn't see any such thing. 
I have here illustrated just wdiat greeted his vision as he 
pulled a pillow out of the broken pane and stuck his 
nose in. 




What Arden Saw. 



And he didn't skulk off and go away to a hotel and 
resolve never to reveal his identity. !NY>, sir. Tie opened 
the kitchen door, walked in, and exclaimed : 

" Come, prance out some supper, or I'll make it the worse 
for you !" 

I 



180 HE FEELS NATURAL. 

" Got out of State Prison, eh ?" inquired Mrs. Arden, as 
she wrung out a towel and tossed it on to a chair. 

And then they mauled each other with alacrity and 
patch, and it wasn't half an hour before Enoch felt as 
natural and as much at home as if he hadn't been go. 
a day. 

Facts are facts, and Mr. Tennyson ought to be ashameu 
of himself. 



4& 




AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 



S his Honor was signing the warrants, and things 
around the room were being put to rights, a small 
lad with sore eyes crept under the rope and asked Bijah 
if he had any chewing tobacco about him. 

The old man's amazement prevented him from speaking 
for half a moment, and then he took the boy by the collar, 
dropped him out of doors, and remarked : 

"The first step to the gallus is chewin' terbacker, and 
when I look around me here and 
observe how many young boys are 
growing up in vice and ignorance 
it makes my flesh crawl." 

" Oh ! take some worm-drops !"* 
replied the boy, backing off. 

"But, come here!" called the 
old man, forcing a smile, "come 
here and get five cents; conn' and 
see yer old father, bub — come and 
tell me who ye are !" 

" Take me for a flat ?" inquired 
the boy, crossing the street. 
Bijah made a dash for him, bnt 
after Btriki'ng the hydrant with his foot and plowing his 
way through a lot of old oyster cans he gave up the chase 
and went in to bide his time. 

m 




132 OUT AND IN. 

NO MORE FOREVER. 

" William Conway Harrington," remarked his Honor, 
as the first man balanced at the mark, " my speech to you 
will consist of but very few words, though you want to 
ponder over them until they stand out on your memory 
like red paint on a Greeley hat. You are charged with 
having kicked your wife out of doors and smashed up the 
furniture." 

" She commenced the row," replied William. 

" William Conway Harrington, listen to me, continued 
the court. " I don't care a button how the fight began, 
but let me state clearly and emphatically that if you are 
brought here again on any such charge you'll be made to 
wish that you were a Hottentot." 

" Well, I'll behave myself," replied the prisoner, trem- 
bling violently. 

" Do, sir ; you may go now. Here's your hat and jack- 
knife, and that door will let you out." 

"SHE'S SORRY, SIR," 
Remarked Bijah as he handed out Katie Worden, a black- 
eyed girl with a scar on her nose. 

" Yes, I am," she added as she pushed a tear from under 
her eyelid. 

" I suppose so," mused his Honor. " The officer says 
you were so intoxicated that you didn't know a woodpile 
from a harness-shop, and that you created a good deal of 

trouble." 

" Try me— give me one more chance !" she pleaded. 

" Couldn't do it," he replied. "You've been here twenty 
times within a year, and it is time you understood that law 
can be clothed in the fleece of a lamb or the skin of a 
tiger. You've come here once too often, and I shall make 
it sixty days." 



THE ACIDITY OF JUSTICE. 



"Oh! Heav oh! I shall faint— oh !- 



133 



"Be placid, Miss Worden," he remarked. "If you 
should fall down in a faint Bijah would have to cut your 
corset-strings, throw water on you and fan you with the 
dust-pan, and your present neat and tidy appearance would 
be destroyed." 




^~ -^ 



If She Had Fainted. 



" But my heart beats so !" she wailed. 

" Yes ; well, you may sit down on the half-bushel meas- 
ure in the corridor and smell of the carbolic acid jug. It's 
a favor we don't grant to every one, but I want you to 
understand that it is a stern sense of justice and not per- 
sonal malice which influences me." 

"SING ME A SONG, MOTHER." 
"While the broken-hearted female was being tenderly 
moved away, a frank, clear voice was heard singing : 

" Down among the cotton blossoms, 
Down among the sugar-cane, 



There was where I met Lucinda, 
There's wliero " 



There's where 

"Put that boy out!" interrupted his Honor, rising up 
and surveying the crowd of small boys behind the stove. 
Silence followed. 



134 NO MORE WHOOPS. 

The boys moved uneasily. 

" Put that boy out, I say !" shouted the Court. 

" Please sir," explained a chunk of a boot-black, step- 
ping forward, " I guess its wind in the stove-pipe !" 

Bijah came out with a sailor at this juncture, and the 
source of the harmonious disturbance was soon settled. 

" Who's this Lucinda you were singing about ?" inquired 
his Honor, as he settled back. 

" It was only a song, sir," explained the sailor, shifting 
about uneasily. 

" Well, w r hat about this charge of drunkenness ?" 

" Blast my flukes if I know." 

" You were drunk — see it in your face. What do you 
mean by such conduct ?" 

" I s'pose I fell in with Jack, and Tom, and Bill, and got 
tight afore I knew it." 

" Well, I'll make you get up and climb for not attending 
to your own business. The sentence is thirty days." 

" Whoop !" exclaimed the sailor. 

" That calls for thirty more !" replied his Honor. 

" It does, eh ? — wdioop !" 

" I'll make it three months !" 

There was a pause. 

" Any more whoops ?" inquired the court. 

" Not even a hoop-skirt !" sadly replied the sailor, as he 
walked away. 

It was the end. 



THE EUREKY RAT-TRAP. 



[IjE boarded the boat at a landing about a hundred 
miles above Vicksburg, having two dilapidated but 
bulky-looking satchels as luggage. He said he was bound 
to " Orleans," and when the clerk told him what the fare 
would be he uttered a long whistle of amazement and 
inquired : 

" Isn't that pooty steep ?" 

" Regular figure, sir," replied the clerk. 

" Seems like a big price for just riding on a boat," con- 
tinued the stranger. 

" Come, I'm in a hurry," said the clerk. 

" That's the lowest figger, eh ?" inquired the stranger. 

" Yes — that's the regular fare." 

" No discount to a regular traveler ?" 

" We make no discount from that figure." 

"Ye wouldn't take half of it in trade ?" 

" I want your fare at once, or we will have to land you !" 

"Don't want a nice rat-trap, do ye, stranger V inquired 
the passenger, " one which seta herself, works <>n Scientific 
principles, allers ready, painted a nice green, wanted by 
every family, warranted to knock the socks off'n any other 
trap ever invented by mortal man ?" 

" No, sir, I want the money !" replied the clerk, in 
emphatic tones. 

135 



136 . AWAKE ! AWAKE ! 

" Oh, wall, I'll pay, of course I will," said the rat-trap 
man ; " but that's an awful figger for a ride to Orleans, and 
cash is cash these days." 

He counted out the fare in ragged shin-plasters, wound a 
shoe-string around his wallet and replaced it, and then 
unlocked one of the satchels and took out a wire rat-trap. 
Proceeding to the cabin, he looked the ground over, and 
then waltzing up to a young lady who sat on a sofa read- 
ing, he began : 

" I take great pleasure in presenting to your attention 
the Eureky rat-trap, the best trap ever invented. It 
sets " 

" Sir !" she exclaimed, rising to her feet. 

" Name's Harrington Baker," he went on, turning the 
trap around on his outstretched hand, " and I guarantee 
this trap to do more square killing among rats than " 

She gave him a look of scorn and contempt, and swept 
grandly away, and without being the least put out he 
walked over to a bald-headed man who had tilted his chair 
back and fallen asleep. 

"Fellow-mortal, awakest and gaze upon the Eureky rat- 
trap," said the stranger, as he laid his hand on the shiny 
pate of the sleeper. 

" Wh — who — what !" exclaimed the bald-head, opening 
his eyes and flinging his arms around. 

" I take this opportunity to call your attention to my 
Eureky rat-trap," continued the new passenger — "the 
noblest Roman of them all. Try one and you will use no 
other. It is constructed on " 

" Who in thunder do you take me for ?" exclaimed the 
bald-headed man at this point. " What in blazes do I 
want of your rat-trap ?" 

" To ketch rats !" humbly replied the stranger — " to clear 
yer premises of one of the most obnoxious pests known to 
man. I believe I am safe in saying that this 'ere " 



ON THE PROMENADE DECK. 137 

" Go away, sir — go away, or I'll knock your blamed head 
off!" roared the bald-head. "When I want a rat-trap I 
shan't patronize traveling vagabonds ! Your audacity in 
daring to put your hand on my head and wake me up 
deserves a caning !" 

" Then you don't want a trap ?" 

" No, sir !" yelled bald-head. 

" I'll make you one mighty cheap." 

" I'll knock you down, sir !" roared bald-head, looking 
around for his cane. 

" Oh, wall, I ain't a starving and it won't make much 
difference if I don't sell to you !" remarked the stranger, 
and he backed off and left the cabin for the promenade 
deck. 

An old maid sat in the shadow of the texas, embroider- 
ing a slipper, and the rat-trap man drew a stool up beside 
her and remarked : 

" Madam, my name is Baker, and I am the inventer of 
the Eureky rat-trap, a sample copy of which I hold here 
on my left hand, and I think I can safely say that " 

"Sir, this is unpardonable!" she exclaimed, pushing 
back. 

" I didn't have an introduction to ye, of course," he 
replied, holding the trap up higher, " but business is busi- 
ness you know. Let me sell you a Eureky trap and make 
ye happy for life ; I warrant this trap to " 

"Sir, I shall call the Captain !" she interrupted, turning 
pale with rage. 

"Does he want a trap ?" eagerly inquired the man. 

" Such impudence deserves the horsewhip !" screamed 
the old maid, backing away. 

The rat-trap man went forward anil found a Northern 
invalid, who was so far gone that he could hardly speak 
above a whisper. 



138 HE HEARD HIM. 

" Ailing, eli ?" queried the trapper. 

The invalid nodded. 

" Wall, I won't say that my Eureky rat-trap will cure 
ye," continued the man, " but this much I do say, and will 
swear to on a million Bibles, that it climbs the ridge-pole 
over any immortal vermin-booster ever yet set before " 

The Captain came up at this juncture, and informed the 
inventor that he must quit annoying passengers. 

" But some of 'em may want one o' my Eureky traps," 
protested the man. 

" Can't help it; this is no place to sell traps." 

" But this is no scrub trap — none o' your humbugs, got 
up to swindle the hair right off of an innocent and confid- 
ing public." 

" You hear me — put that trap up !" 

" I'll put it up, of course ; but then, I'll leave it to yer- 
self if it isn't rather Shylocky in a steamboat to charge me 
the reg'lar figger to Orleans, and then stop me from passing 
my Eureky trap out to the hankerin' public ?" 




"THE HEAD-WRITER." 



tT was early in the morning when I heard a great pufling 
and blowing on the stairs, and pretty soon footsteps 
sounded in the hall, and a woman's voice said : 

" Xow, John Qnincy, you want to look as smart as you 



can 



t" 



The next moment the door opened and a big fat woman 
and a small thin boy came into the room. She gave her 




'Is the Head -Writer In?' 



dress a shake, snatched the boy's hat off, and then looking 
at me she inquired : 

" Is the head-writer in ?" 

"He is, madam," I replied. 

" Be you him ?" she asked. 

I nodded. 

130 



140 JOHN QUINCY. 

" Oh! dear!" she exclaimed, as she sat down on a chair 
and fanned herself with her handkerchief, " I like to have 
never got up stairs." 
I smiled and nodded. 

" You see that boy thar' ?" she inquired, after awhile. 
" Your son, I suppose ?" I answered — " nice-looking 
lad." 

" Yes, he's smart as a fox. There isn't a thing he don't 
know. Why, he isn't but eight, and he composeys poetry, 
writes letters and plays tunes on the fiddle !" 
" You ought to be proud of him," I said. 
" Wall, we kinder hope he'll turn out well," she answered. 
" Come up here, John Quincy, and speak that piece about 
that boy who stood on the busted deck." 

" I won't !" replied the boy in a positive tone. 
" He's a little bashful, you see," giving me an apologeti- 
cal smile. " He's rid fourteen miles this morning, and he 
doesn't feel well, anyhow; I shouldn't wonder if he was 
troubled with worums." 

"Worms be blowed!" replied John Quincy, chewing 
away at his hat. 

"He's awful skeard when he's among strangers," she 
went on, "but he'll git over it in a short 
time. What I cum in for was to see if you 
wouldn't take him and make a head-writer 
of him." 

" I don't want to be a durned old bald- 
headed head -writer !" said John Quincy, 
picking his teeth with my scissors. 

" The young never knows what's good for 
'em," she went on. "He wants to be a 
preacher, or a great lawyer, or a big doctor, but he seems 
to take to writing, and we thought we'd make a head- 
writer of him. I don't s'pose he'd earn over five or six 




ANNOUNCING THE TERMS. 141 

dollars and board a week for the first year, but I've bin told 
that Gen'ral Jackson didn't git half that when he begun : 

" Madam," I commenced, as she stopped for breath, " I'd 
like to take the boy. He looks as smart as a steel trap, 
and no doubt he'll turn out a great man." 

" Then you'll take him?" 

" If you agree as to terms." 

" What is them ter-ums ?" 

" You see my left eye is out ?" 

" Yes." 

"Well, your son can never become a great writer unless 
you put his left eye out. If you will think bark you will 
remember that you never saw a great writer whose left eye 
was not out. This is a matter of economy. A one-eyed 
writer only needs half as much light as a man with two 
eyes, and he isn't half so apt to discover hair-pins in his 
butter, and buttons in his oyster soup. The best way to 
put his eye out is to jab a red-hot needle into it." 

" Good grashus !" she exclaimed. 

" And you observe that I am bald-headed ? You may 
think that my baldness results from seal]) disease, but such 
is not the case. When a head-writer is bothered to get an 
idea he scratches his head. Scratching the hair wouldn't 
do any good; it's the scalp he must agitate. The hair is 
therefore pulled out with a pair of pincers, in order that a 
man can get right down to the scalp at once, and save 
time." 

" Can that be possible !" 

" All this is strictly true, madam. You also observe that 
one of my legs is shorter than the other. Without an 
explanation on my part you would attribute this t<> Bome 
accident. Such is not the ease. Every head-writer is 
located in the fourth story of the office, and his left leg 
is shortened three inches to enable him to run up and down 



142 



HOW THEY STUFF EM. 



stairs. You will have to have a doctor unjoint your son's 
leg at the hip, saw it off to the proper length, and then 
hook it back in its place." 

" Did I ever hear the likes !" she exclaimed. 
" And you also observe, madam, that two of my front 
teeth are gone. You might think they decayed, but such 
was not the case. They were knocked out with a crow- 
bar, in order to enable me to spit ten feet. According to 
a law enacted at the last session of Congress any head- 
writer who can't spit ten feet is not entitled to receive Con- 
gressional reports free of postage." 

" Can it be so !" she said, her eyes growing larger every 
moment. 

" And you notice my corpulent build ?" I went on, " you 
might think this the result of high living, but it is not. 
Every head-writer of any prominence has one of these big 
stomachs on him. They are all members of a secret 

society, and they tell 
each other outside of 
the lodge-room in this 
way. I am naturally 
very tall and thin, but 
I had to conform to 
the rules. They cut 
a hole in my chest and 
= filled me out by stuff- 
ing in dry Indian meal. It took two bushels and a peck, 
and then it lacked a little and they had to fill up with oat- 
meal. Now then, madam, you see what your son must go 
through with, and I leave you to judge whether you will 
have him learn the head- writer's trade or not. I like the 

looks of the boy very much, and if you desire to " 

"I guess we'll go hum!" she exclaimed, lifting herself off 
the chair. "I kinder want him to be a head-writer, and 




JOHN QUINCY'S PHILOSOPHY. 



143 



yit I think I ought to have a little more talk with his father, 

who wants him to git to be boss in a saw-mill. I'm 'bleged 
to you, and if we conclude to have him " 

" Yes, bring him right in, day or night. The first thing 
wall be to unhinge his left leg and !" 

But they were out in the hall, and I heard John Quincy 
remark : 

" Head-writer be blowed !" 




MRS. DOLSON'S AILMENTS. 




RS. Dolson lives close beside us, and if 
Dolson should move away, we'd be truly 
sorry. She knows herbs, drugs and medi- 
cines by heart. She can tell you just what 
to do in every complaint, from a sore nose 
to having a leg taken off by a street car, 
and such a person is a prize which any 



neighborhood would appreciate. 



Mrs. Dolson has had a great deal of experience for a 
woman only fifty years of age. She's had the ague, the 
chills, the itch, the hives, chicken-pox, scarlet fever, bilious 
fever, small-pox, pneumonia, typhoid fever, asthma, bron- 
chitis, lock-jaw, toothache, heart disease, and any other dis- 
ease handy to think of, and she knows just what to do in 
each case. I was thinking of her the other day, and I put 
up a little job on her. 

I rushed over and pounded on her door just after she 
had tucked herself away beside Dolson for the night, and 
when she raised the window and put out her head, I said : 

" Mrs. Quad is awful sick !" 

" La ! but what is it ?" she inquired. 

" I'm afraid it's the philoprogenitiveness," I replied. 

" Dear me !" if she's got that she'll have a hard time, I'm 
afraid," said the old lady in a regretful voice. "I had an 
attack of it when we lived in Buffalo, and there were sev- 

144 



SOME OTHER COMPLAINTS. 145 

enteen nights when Dolson never shut his eyes to sleep. 
You must soak her feet and put mustard plaster on the 

soles." 

" It may not be that," I went on ; " I think the symptoms 
rather go to show that she has been taken with retro- 
version." 

" Then it will be a severe case indeed !" she replied. " I 
remember, when my oldest daughter was a baby, I had an 
attack of it, and before they could get a doctor I was at the 
point of death. If I were you I'd give her sage tea, and 
rub on pain-killer, and if she wasn't better by midnight, 
I'd call a doctor." 

" Did you ever have any experience in cases of phyto- 
geny ?" I asked, as she was about to draw in her head. 

" Phytogeny ! I should think I had ! Why, it wasn't 
two weeks ago that I had a spell on't, and I thought for 
about half an hour that Dolson was going to be a widower 
before sundown. If you think that is what ails her, you'd 
better give her a whisky sling and some dry ginger." 

" Mrs. Burbank was in about an hour ago, and she said 
she thought all the symptoms pointed to a bad case of 
morsitation," I went on. 

" Deary me ! I hope not," answered the good old lady, 
sighing heavily. " That's what Aunt Jasen Starkweather 
died -with. She was taken about daylight, and was a corpse 
before dinner was ready. I had a slight touch of it once, 
and if Dolson hadn't been in the house I couldn't have 
lived two hours. If I was you I'd give her some grated 
ginsen root and New Orleans molasses." 

" "Well," I said, as I backed off" the step, " I hope it won't 
run into the intuitionalism." 

" Gracious ! I hope so, too," she replied. " That's what 
Deacon Patchin's wife died with. I was there visiting, and 
she was taken along about three o'clock in the afternoon, 
J 



146 THE GOOD OLD SOUL. 

and died the next day. Poor thing! I've seen a good 
deal of suffering, but I never knew any one to toss around 
as she did. I came near having it myself last May, and I 
know how to pity any one who comes down with it." 

She drew in her head, and I went home. The next 
morning she saw me at the gate, and when I told her that 
my wife's sickness was an attack of the intussusception, 
and she was much better, Mrs. Dolson exclaimed : 

" Well, now, if that isn't good ! If she's careful she'll 
soon be up again. I've had it three or four times, and I 
always keep quiet for a day or two, and drink spearmint 
tea." 




CONFESSION OF A MURDERER. 




> BELIEVE the clock was just striking nine in the 
evening when he knocked at the door and sent 
in word that he wanted to see me. I went out, 
and he shook hands with me and asked if all 
my folks were usually well. When I had 
replied that such was the case, he broke out 
with : 

" My object in visiting this city is to intro- 
duce to public notice my new corn remedy. I 
have traveled over Europe, Asia, Africa and the 
Holy Land, and everywhere I have met with the most 

flat " 

He got that much out before I could stop him. Then I 
laid my hand on his shoulder and whispered coldly in his 
left ear : 

" Mister man ! if you have any desire to live to see your 
family grow up you won't be seven seconds getting out of 
this yard !" 

He wasn't, but the next morning, just as I was ready 
to go out, he called again. He didn't seem to have any 
fear in his nature, for as soon as I appeared he reached out 
his hand and inquired : 

" May I hope that your family are well ?" 
" Yes, blame you ! you can hope that they are in the 
Rhine, if you want to !" I replied. 

147 




148 BEHIND THE SHANTY. 

"My dear sir, allow me to call your attention to my 
newly-invented salve for removing corns," he went on. " I 
can show you certificates from Queen Victoria, Abraham 

Lincoln, Colonel Forney, Judge " 

I stopped him there. Tapping him on the shoulder, I 

asked him if he didn't know 
that he was standing over a 
powder magazine — on the 
brink of a yawning chasm — 
on the verge of death ? 

He seemed a little paler 
as he walked away, and I 
thought he would not return. 
I had forgotten all about 
him by evening, when he 
called again and informed the girl that he must see me on 
important business. I went out, and he extended his hand 
and wanted to know if I thought I was as well as last year 
nt that time. 

I collared him before he could say another word, and 
yelled to the girl to bring me a revolver and a bowie-knife, 
Tmt he begged so hard that I couldn't have the heart to 
iill him. He promised never to say " corn remedy " 
within two blocks of the house again, but he was a base 
liar. Yes, he was. He was back there next day, and the 
next, and the next, and finally I told him to come around 
into the back yard and I would take ten gross of his 
remedy. 

" I knew you wanted it !" he exclaimed, but his cheer- 
fulness was soon cut short. 

I got him around behind the shanty. We were alone 
together. It was late and dark. I had everything fixed, 
and he didn't suffer much. As soon as he found out that 
he was to die he tried to soften my heart by telling me 



IT MUSSES THE YARD. 



149 




that he had fourteen wives and a fond children, but I 
wouldn't have spared him then for a house and lot in 

* * He fell where he 
died. He gasped out a 
few broken words, but 
whether they were a re- 
quest to bury him in the 
garden, or some farewell 
words to his family, I do 
not know. 

I sometimes wish I 

had spared him ; it musses up a back yard terribly to use 

it for a slaughter-pen. 




THE PERKINS BABY. 



1 VERYBODY said he was a darling for the first year, 
[and I guess he was. Mrs. Perkins used to bring him 
over and demand my adoration, but finally when I got out 
of patience and told her that I had been the father of 
thousands of just as handsome and cunning little cherubs, 
she became indignant and refused to enter my house or let 
their calf play with my goat. 

I suppose the child was up to the average. It was their 
first, and Perkins wasn't so much to blame for making a 
fool of himself. The child wasn't three days old before its 
father purchased it a pair of boots, a straw hat, a drum, a 
base ball bat and other things, and he carried a grin on his 

face which would 
have made his for- 
tune as a circus 
clown. 

I knew how he'd 
catch it, but I said 
nothing. It wasn't 
many days before 
we used to hear 
him up at mid- 
It Always Happens. night, shaking the 

old stove around and butting his nose against the doors, 
and his eyes began to have a solemn look. Then his 
mother-in-law, two brothers and their families, two or three 

150 








1 



? ^*% , 



\ sFP—t' 



THE PERKINS BABY. 




THE FATAL JACK-KNIFE. 151 

uncles and aunts, and a few acquaintances, paid Perkins a 
visit to see the baby, and when they filed in to meals it was 
like a circus procession. 

The colic season came on after the baby was two months 
old, and then didn't Perkins catch it ! The baby would 

be sleeping as sweetly as an alli- 
gator on a mud-bank, when all of 
a sudden the colic would strike 
him, and he'd yell : 

Whoop! "Whooooo! I-hooo!" 
-^.r ^ '- A They'd turn him on his little 

\ *\ ^ stomach, loosen his bands, rub 
\V *C- V 

his back and give him catnip tea, 

"Vhe Old Man Dreams." ° r ' 

but he'd kick and claw, and 
they'd have to send for Perkins and the doctor, and raise 
as much excitement as a fire-alarm. If it was night Per- 
kins would have to leap out of bed, build a fire, look for 
ointments and liniments and soothing syrups, and perhaps 
it was hours before he got to bed again. 

This thing went on until everybody in the neighborhood 
got down on the Perkins angel, and didn't care whether he 
lived or died. When he was a year old, and could sit 
alone, he one day got hold of his father's jack-knife. They 
saw him biting the end of it, but they didn't see him push 
it under the bureau. He was hunting around for some- 
thing else when a fly swooped down on his poor head and 
gave him a bite which raised him a foot high. He yelled 
out and clawed and kicked, and Mrs. Perkins jumped for 
him and cried out : 

" He's went and swallered that 'ere jack-knife !" 

Perkins looked around, failed to see the knife, noted the 

red face and flying legs of his child, and he clapped on his 

hat and ran for the doctor. The hired girl made a dash 

among the neighbors, and in a little while they had gath- 



152 



HOLD HIM UP! 



ered to the number of forty. The child had got mad by 
this time, and as he kicked and howled and grew red Mrs. 
Perkins clasped her hands and wailed : 

" That dreadful jack-knife is working among his blessed 
vitals !" 

Perkins sat down in a tremble, some of the women cried, 
and a fat man went out on the back door-step and wiped 
the tears away with a new three-dollar hat, utterly regard- 
less of expense. 

" Hold the young 'un up !" yelled one. 
"Pat him on the back!" screamed another. 
"Turn him over!" squealed old Mrs. Johnson. 

And they held 
that boy up by one 
leg and swung him 
this way and that. 
They flung him on 
the lounge and 
rolled him over 
and over, mauling 
him in the back 
with their fists, and 
he made the neigh- 
Thet held Him Up. borhood ring with his 

howls. Finally the doctor arrived, and he put the boy on 
the table and pinched his ribs and rubbed his stomach and 
tried to count his pulse. 

" I think the knife rests right here," he said, placing his 
hand on the baby's stomach. 

" 'Spose'n it should open and commence to whittle away 
on his vitals !" wailed Mrs. Perkins. 

" Hand me mustard, and tepid water, and salt, and some 
pills, and strong coffee, and chloroform !" answered the 
doctor. 




IT DIDN T SEEM POSSIBLE. 



153 



Then they held that boy and filled him up with stuff, 
and rubbed and pounded him some more, and as he clawed 
around and kicked old Mrs. Frazer in the nose they said it 
was convulsions, contortions and dying agonies. They 
wore the hair off his head before they got through with 
him, and the doctor said that he would have to either cut 
him open and take the jack-knife out with a pair of tongs, 
or see the innocent die, when Mrs. Gregory's tow-headed 
boy, who was prowling around, discovered the jack-knife 
under the bureau. Then the doctor got red in the face, 
Perkins jumped over the table, and the old women wiped 
their eyes and remarked : 

" It didn't seem possible that Providence was going to 
take the little darling away!" 




HOW A WOMAN MAKES A BED. 




HE'S washed the dishes, cleared off the 
table, swept out the sitting-room, and she 
stands in the bed-room door for a moment, 
arms akimbo, and surveys the bed. 

The pillows are skewed around, the 

quilts rolled up in a heap, one end of 

the sheet down almost to the floor, and 

she wonders how "them young ones" 

managed to tumble up the bed so. 

She approaches the bed, seizes the pillows and 
deposits them on a chair, hauls the quilts off and drops 
them in the door- way, draws the sheets over the stand, and 
she finds the feather-tick full of lumps and dents and hills 
and hollows. She makes a lunge for it, rolls it to the foot 
of the bed, and dives down among the straw. 

Her hands are lost to sight, and she bends over until it 
seems as if her back would break. The straw is pulled 
this way, pushed that, dragged around and torn apart, and 
her fingers reach clean to the bottom and into each corner. 
" There ! ha !" she says, as she straightens up to rest her 
back; and after a moment she grabs the feather-tick, yanks 
it around, gives it a flop and rolls it against the head-board 
that she may get into the foot of the straw-tick. She dives 
into the straw once more, and her face gets as red as paint 
as her nose almost touches the tick. The straw is finally 

154 



i 



WHERE SHE FAILED. 155 

stirred enough, and she rests her back, looks up to the ceil- 
in o- and wonders where she can borrow a w T hite-w r ash brush. 
Then it would do your heart good to see her grab the 
feather-bed. She hauls it around, flings it up, mauls great 
dents in it with her fists, jams it against the wall and finally 
flattens it out. Then she seizes the foot, shakes the feath- 
ers toward the head, smooths them along further with her 
hand, and each corner is patted down and made to stand 
out distinctly. That hollow in the center is patted out of 
existence, and at last the bed is a true slant from head to 
foot. The top sheet is switched off the stand, held up 
before her until she sees the seam, then she flies it across 
the bed. It settles down just as true and square as a rule, 
and after the front side has been tucked down behind the 
rail the other sheet follows. 

The pillows are then grabbed up, mauled and beaten and 
cuffed around until they swell with indignation, and they 
are dropped on to the bed so gently that they don't make 
a dent, but seem to float in the air above the sheets. The 
ends where the cases button are placed to go outside, 
according to long established rule, and the quilts are swung 
over, tucked behind the rail, pulled down at the foot, 
smoothed at the head, and she stands back and says : 

" There ! those children will sleep like bugs to-night !" 

A few weeks ago, as I 6tood in the post-office, I heard one 
female say to another : 

" Did you hear about poor Mrs. Gleason ?" 

"No — sick?" was the query. 

" Poor thing — died last night." 

" Is that so ?" was the exclamation. " Well, I'm sorry, 
though she's better off. She was a good wife, but she 
could never make up a bed as it ought to be made." 



"BRIXS." 



3TLT may be lonesome out on the broad prairie when the 
@s shadows of night fall and dance and weave about and 
wreathe themselves into forms which the lone hunter may 
take for enemies seeking his life. The big farm-house 
may seem tomb-like when evening has grown to midnight 
and sleep has closed every eye, and the watch-dog growls 
at the wind softly moving the branches of the locust tree 
at the gate. But, when the heart of a great city ceases 
to beat — when night has swept the streets as if a plague 
were abroad, and the flag-stones ring out sharp echoes of 
the lightest foot-fall, there is something so lonely, so solemn, 
that the pedestrian cannot carry one single cheerful 
thought. Nothing can be more lonely, no shadows can be 
deeper or more menacing. 

I came across them as I hurried along at midnight — a 
queer old man with trembling voice, and a gaunt woe-be- 
gone dog. I heard them talking in a stair-way — a dark 
spot from which the lonely shadows sallied forth to dance 
around the dim gas lamps and creep after belated pedes- 
trians. With one hand on the iron railing, wishing to go 
nearer, but deterred by the shining orbs of the dog, I stood 
and heard the old man say : 

" Brixs, put your paw in my hand ! There, that way. 
Do you know, Brixs, that I'm going away V 

The dog whined and moved uneasily. 

" Yes, dog — going to set out on a long journey, and I've 

156 



GROWN OLD TOGETHER. 157 

got to leave you behind. You've been more than a friend, 
Brixs ; you've followed me along the road, up and down 
the streets, through the alleys, and you've been the same 
dog day after day." 

The doo- uttered a low bark, as if he understood, and the 
old man continued : 

" We've both grown old. Gray hairs have come to my 
head, weakness to my limbs, and your coat is faded and 
you are lame and stiff. We never had a quarrel, and I 
never gave you a cross word, and I'm free to say I'd rather 
die with your face close to mine than to have a hundred 
friends weeping around my death-bed !" 

The old man was lying on the landing, his head pillowed 
on one of the iron stairs, and the dog stood over him and 
caressed him. 

"Poverty, hunger, ingratitude, rags, heart-aches and 
bruises have been our lot," continued the old man, " but 
the end is here — for me. They'll find me dead, and 
there'll be no hand to protect you. You'll be driven away, 
beaten and starved, and they'll call you a dog. I know 
better, but I won't be here. It has been the road-side one 
night, the barn the next, a stair-way or the commons the 
next for these long years past, but you haven't complained. 
No, Brixs, you've put up with everything, borne your full 
share, and if they only knew how I loved you they'd bury 
us both in one grave !" 

The dog, standing with his paws on his master's breast, 
uttered a long, mournful howl, and the shadows seemed 
to catch the echoes and carry them up and down the dark 
stairs. 

" Nobody'U care for me, Brixs — no one but you. They'll 
find the corpse, say that another old man is dead, and in 
an hour I'll be boxed and buried and forgotten. You can't 
speak — you can't do, and 'twould be useless if you could. 



158 AROUND THE CORNER. 

The poor and the old have no business here — no right in 
the world!" 

The dog nestled down to the old man's face and uttered 
a piteous whine. 

" I know your heart aches," said the old man, and "mine 
aches, too. We're old ; we've been fast friends, until I'd 
feel like murdering one who'd harm a hair of your body. 
I'm not running away from you — I'm only dying! I'm 
getting rid of these hurts and bruises and limps — these 
gray hairs and trembling limbs — these heart-aches and 
sorrows and wanderings. The human soul does not die, 
Brixs, and I believe that the door which opens to me will 
swing back for you ! You've been faithful and true, and 
that's what no human being ever was !" 

The dog raised his head, and his howl was so full of 
grief and loneliness that I hurried away, racing with the 
shadows to see who should pass the corner first. 

When I passed the stair-way next morning a dog sat on 
the curb-stone, looking anxiously into the face of every 
passer-by. It was Brixs. They had found a dead body on 
the landing — the corpse of an old man. 

Brixs was alone in the world, and the world had not one 
kind word for him. I called to him, but he disappeared 
around the corner, moving slowly — walking like a human 
being who had not one hope left. 



THE LAST WARRIOR. 




HAVE just returned from interview- 

the last Indian warrior left in 

Michigan. I feel sad. Once they 

were plenty — now they are scarce. 

Less than a hundred years ago 

the forests echoed the whoops of 

thousands of noble red men, and 

the valleys were dotted with their 

lodges. 

Now there is nary whoop. 
And nary lodge. 
I found the last warrior propped 
g up against a coal-shed near the 
' river — the river which was once cov- 
ered with the canoes of his ancestors, 
and which sang soft, sad songs in the 
ears of the sleeping Indian babes. 
He didn't seem inclined to talk. Perhaps his 
mind was overburdened with the bitter memories of the 
past, and he was only waiting for the shadow of death 
to come and touch him and gather him to the happy 
hunting-grounds of his fathers. 

" Renowned "Wild Hoss, Big Moon, Setting Sun, Roar- 
ing Chipmunk, Howling Rabbit, or whatever your name 
is, don't you feel sad?" I asked as I stood before him. 

He didn't say. 

159 



160 



wouldn't even sigh. 




" When you remember back and realize that the great 
and powerful tribe of Wyandottes once camped on this 
spot, and that five thousand warriors, more 
or less, roamed and howled and got up and 
dusted through this neighborhood in search 
of scalps — when you remember that the 
smoke of Injun camp-fires once made this 
whole State look dim — when you 
remember that every glade had its 
score of lodges, and that squaws 
picked strawberries in every val- 
ley — when you remember all this, 
doesn't it make tears come to your 
eyes ?" 

He wouldn't compromise himself waiting to be gathered. 
by answering. 

" Where now is Pontiac ?" I asked — " where is Okemos, 
Tall Cedar, Three -fingered Jack, Humped -back Sam, 
Awful Charley, and the score of other great chiefs who 
once had to hire an express wagon to haul their crop of 
scalps around the country ? Where are they ?" 

He didn't even sigh. 

" WTiere are the thirty thousand warriors w t 1io once gath- 
ered around the council fires and felt their back hair crawl- 
ing up as some four-horse chief took the center of the 
circle and promised them gallons of gore and barrels of 
scalps? Where are they? Ask the sighing pines, the 
murmuring river or the setting sun ! Do you hear their 
voices any more? Do you know where their bones are 
fading to dust ?" 

"Sir, the smoke of your camp-fires no longer curl 
through the beeches. The wild fox digs his den where 
once your council-fires "blazed fiercely. The white man's 
dog plays with the bloody tomahawk of your high-nosed 



IT IS REALLY SAD. 161 

grandpa, and the farmer yells : 'Haw Buck — gee Bright!' 
in the valleys where the smoke-stained Injun ladies once 
played croquet. Your, glory has faded. You can't hold a 
candle to the white man. Don't you feel a goneness ?" 

Only echo answered. 

" You are the last of your race, mister man — the last red 
warrior in Michigan. After a few moons more — after the 
sun rises and sets on a few more days — you will be gath- 
ered home — collected at a mass convention of your party 
friends in the hunting-grounds set aside for scalp-takers in 
the land beyond the skies. Then the beech tree will whis- 
per to the pine, the pine will sigh to the hill-top, and the 
hill-top will bow its head and ask the gurgling streamlet 
where the red children of the forest have fled to. It's 
awful sad to think of it — I could weep for you. Won't 
you give me your candid opinion on these things ?" 




HIS TROUBLES WITH REFRIGERATORS. 



SUPPOSE I have had more trouble with refrigerators 
l than any other man in the West, and it has not been 
my fault, either. I can recall every one I ever had, and 
can distinctly remember what happened to them. The 
first one was called " The Arctic Star." The agent followed 
me four miles on a hot day, while giving me its freezing 
points, and I took it more to reward his industry than any- 
thing else. I looked high and low that night for some- 
thing to put in that refrigerator, and only succeeded in 
getting hold of ten cents worth of radishes, which I under- 
took to preserve on twenty-five cents worth of ice. I got 
up early, opened the doors and found a cat seated on the 
shelf, wiping the sweat off her brow 
with her hind feet. She didn't say 
anything, nor did I, but we both did 
considerable thinking, and that box 
went out of doors after breakfast. 
I didn't propose to open any con- 
veniences for wearied cats around 
.my house. 

the wearied cat. The next was called the "Frigid 

Iceberg." I told the agent that I had always supposed 
icebergs were as limber as strings, but he replied that the 
name didn't make any difference with the box, and put on 
a frigid look himself. The box was a fine-looking affair, 
four-holes-full-jeweled, with a fine brass door-knob which 

162 




STILL AILING. 1G3 

glowed and winked in the sun like a midnight lamp. It 
had just begun to be a success, when the servant girl, who 
had that day received a letter from her William stating 
that his affections were on the wane, went up into the sec- 
ond story of the box and took poison, and she was dead 
when we found her. The sight of the box was so mourn- 
ful that it had to go out of the house. Poor girl ! she was 
very scrupulous in her habits, and would have chosen some 
other place if her mind had been free from trouble. The 
agent was rather put out when I told him that the body 
didn't get cold for five hours, and he remarked that.the ice 
of the present day wasn't the ice of years ago, which was 
a very graphic remark. 

The next one was called the " Greenland Hyperborean."' 
It was warranted to save ten per cent in fuel, fifteen per 
cent in oil, and I don't know how much more, but remem- 
ber that the agent warranted it to have taken twelve 
thousand medals at State fairs, and a few certificates at 
other doings. Joe Coburn said it was the best "box" he 
ever saw, and Jem Mace declared that he wouldn't have 
anything else in his house. The box was very handsome, 
having a carved center board and green bulwarks. I tried 
the pumps one morning and found she was making water 
very fast, having sprung a leak somewhere, and directly she 
went down — down off the back steps, and I got licked 
while trying to convince the agent that his peculiar forte 
was'sclling lightning rods. 

The next one was callen the " Icicle." The agent kept 
me up most of the night to expatiate on the merits of the 
box, and I fell asleep while he was talking, and dreamed I 
had found the North Pole. He warranted it to save half 
the soap in washing, and asserted that the clothes wouldn't 
need any rubbing by using his process, which was to hang 
the garments on the roof of the box. He was right. The 



164 



A HARD RUB. 



clothes hadn't hung there half of the first night before 
there weren't any left to rub, the box being in the summer- 
kitchen, where the agent's friends could find it. 




The New Process. 



The next box had but one bay-window, and I couldn't 
keep it and move with the ton ; the next agent refused to 
put my monogram on the lid, and it consequently wasn't 
in style. The next one was haunted by the ghost of a car- 
penter who fell and broke his neck while putting the slate 
on the third story, and something or other ailed every box 
until now I don't have one, though an agent is after 
jne to purchase the "Alaska Cave," which has coupons on 
it that draw semi-annual interest, and won't explode even 
if turned bottom-side up. 



HOW A WOMAN SPLITS WOOD. 



lOBINSOISr was notified by his better half, the other 
day, that the wood-pile had been reduced to one old 
chunk, but he caught the panic down town and failed 
to send up a replenishing load. Just before noon Mrs. 
Robinson hunted up the axe and went for the lone chunk. 
She knew that a woman could split wood as well as a man ; 
she had read and heard about woman's awkwardness, but 
she knew 'twas all nonsense. 

She spit on her hands and raised the axe over her left 
shoulder, right hand lowest down on the handle. She 
made a terrific blow, and the axe went into the ground and 
she fell over the chunk, She got up and looked all around 

to see if anybody was watch- 
ing, rubbed her elbows and 
then took up the axe the 
other way. She meant to 
strike the stick plumb-cen- 
ter, but she forgot the clothes 
line above her head, and the 
axe caught it, jerked up ami 
down, and Mrs. Robinson 
went over the ash-heap. She 
rose up witli less confidence 
in her eye, and the boys play- 
ing in the alley heard some one softly say : " Darn it to 
Texas!" but of course it wasn't Mrs. Robinson. She 

165 




Darn it to Texas! 



1G6 AND YET THEY WOULD VOTE. 

might have moved the stick a little, but she didn't. She 
went in and got a chair and stood upon it to take down 
the clothes-line, then she coiled it up and hung it in the 
shed, and came back and surveyed the chunk and turned 
it over and walked around it. 

The clothes-line was to blame, and now there was noth- 
ing to interfere. She got the axe, raised it once or twice, 
and finally gave an awful blow. It chipped off a sliver 
and was buried in the ground, and the knob on the handle 
knocked the breath out of her. She gasped and coughed 
and jumped up and down, and the boys heard some one 
say : " If I had that man here I'd mop the ground with 
him, I would !" After awhile she grew calmer and picked 
up the axe to see if she had injured it. She hadn't, and 
she smoothed down the handle, spit on the edge and finally 
went in and got a rind and greased it, suddenly remem- 
bering that no axe was worth a cent without greasing. By 
and by she was ready. She sat the chunk on end, put a 
stone behind it and then surveyed it from all sides. She 
had it now just where she wanted it. She looked all 
around to see if any of the meddling neighbors were look- 
ing, and then she raised the 
axe. She would hit the 
stick just in the center and 
lay it open at one blow. 
She put out one foot, drew 
a long breath, and then 
brought down the axe with 
a "Ha!" just as she had 

"Angels in the Air," geen R bi nson do. The axe 

went off the handle and the handle struck the stick. So did 
Mrs. Robinson. She thought she saw angels in the air ; 
and her nose was "barked" and several teeth were loosened 
until they seemed half an inch too long. 




SHE WOOD AND SHE WOULDN'T. 167 

When she rose up she determined to butcher Robinson 
the moment he appeared. Then she concluded she would 
not butcher him at once, but torture him to death and be 
two days about it. After getting into the house and put- 
ting a sticking-plaster on her knee and some lard on her 
elbow, she concluded to only wound Robinson in the 
shoulder with the butcher-knife. 

After pinning up the tear in her dress and getting a 
piece of court-plaster for her nose, she went and borrowed 
some wood, and hearing while on the way home that Mrs. 
Prindle suspected that Miss Spindle was going to w r ear her 
last year's cloak through another winter, the good woman 
concluded to let Robinson off entirely and tell Mm that 
she hurt her nose falling down cellar. 



«^(Q)m> 



FAT FOLKS. 



^fP LIKE fat folks. There's something jolly right in the 
'£\L fact of one's being a great big porpoise, and you never 
saw a fat man or woman but what was good-natured, 
unless disappointed in love. I often wish I stood in Baker's 
shoes. He weighs two hundred and eighty, and when seen 
coming down the street he resembles a sloop under full 
sail. When he enters a street-car everybody shoves along 
at once, and if it's crowded, two or three men will get up 
and offer him their seats. He is of importance wherever 
he goes. If he sits on an inquest he influences the jury, 
and if he predicts the weather people put faith in him. If 
there's a crowd around a sick horse, Baker elbows his way 
right in where I couldn't get, and they are always sure to 
make him cashier at Sunday-school excursions, send him 
invitations to deliver Fourth of July orations, and he is the 
man always selected to present the fire company with new 
hats and a speech. 

And there's Mrs. Scott, who weighs nearly as much 
as Baker. When it's a hot day everybody asks after 
her comfort, and when it's a cold day everybody congratu- 
lates her on being fat. She was made the president of a 
benevolent society, the treasurer of an art association, and 
the " head-man " in a monument enterprise, just because 
she was fat and " could fill the chair " better than any lean 
woman. If she went aboard the ferry-boat they always 
placed her in the center of the cabin in the best arm-chair 

168 



SECTION ONE. 



109 



aboard, so that she could not careen the craft over, and if 
forty lean women hung over the railing to starboard or 
port, nothing was ever said or cared about it. She had the 
biggest tent at camp-meeting, the best place to see the 
Fourth of July fire-works, and grocers were always send- 
ing her early strawberries and first vegetables. 

I fell in love with a fat girl once. I loved madly, because 
I was loving two hundred and seven pounds of girl. She 
was amiable, tender-hearted, good-natured and true, and I 
think she loved me. We were to be married in the fall, 
and I should probably have been one of the happiest of 
husbands, when an accident dashed my prospects. She 

fell overboard just as we 
were about to leave the 
wharf on a steamboat 
excursion. Four or five 
|g sailors plunged after, 
and they got a gang- 
plank under her, a cable 
around her waist, and 
: -- --= ^ — ■. _^=±li 5 towed her to the wharf. 
Then they rigged a derrick and lifted her out by sections, 
but they were so long about it that she took a severe cold, 
and the result was death. There were months and months 
after that that I never could pass a load of hay without 
thinking of my lost Amanda and shedding tears; and even 
to this day I can't see an elephant or a rhinoceros without 
her dear visage rising up before me. 




EPITAPHS AND SUCH. 



TOOK a walk through the cemetery yesterday, and I 
have been in a brown study ever since. Cushman's 
tombstone stands up there a foot above all the rest, 
and on it I read : 

" Let us meet him in Heaven." 

I don't know who ordered that epitaph, but I used to 
live beside Cushman. Many's the time 
I kept him from pounding his wife when 
he was drunk, and I went bail for him 
when he stole a horse and wagon, and 
was on the jury which sent him to State 
Prison for stealing hay. He was killed 
in a saloon row, and if I ever "meet him 
in Heaven " 
I shall ask, 
him whether 
he climbed over the wall or 
tunneled under it. 

Davison has a very nice head- 1\ 
stone with a pair of clasped 
hands on it, and these words : 

iljlfc 

I was much aiFected at read- "Too pure for earth." 

ing the lines, but I couldn't help but wonder if he repented 

170 




'Let Us Meet Him. 



Too pure for earth, 

Gone to his Heavenly rest." 




UP THERE, ETC 



171 



of selling me a bogus lottery ticket ; of setting fire to the 

railroad sheds ; of stealing a carpet from the Methodist 

church, and of several other little matters, which caused 

him to make the acquaintance of the jailer. It is possible 

that he was " too pure for earth," but I know men who 

will bet ten dollars on it. 

Thatcher has a monument with a lamb on top, and his 

loving wife put on the words : 
" I shall meet him up there." 

I don't know what they put the lamb on for. Lambs 
don't carry the disposition which 
Thatcher had. I could cover that 
monument with chalk-marks if I 
should commence to remember the 
times I had seen him come home, 
throw his wife out doors and play 
smash with the furniture. Wasn't 
I present when he bit Billy Mad- 
^P den's left ear clean off in a fight ? 
Wasn't I around when he broke 

his son's ribs ? Wasn't I there when he gouged Jack 

Spray's eye out ? And now his widow is trying to live so 

that she may meet him "up there." If she should look 

around and fail to see his 

beloved phiz in that region 

of eternal bliss she needn't 

think strange of it. 

Peterson's tombstone held 

me a great while. It is of 

mostly Italian marble, with an 

Mrn on top, and a hand with 

t^e finger pointing towards 

this paragraph : "Gone before." 

" Gone before — blighted by earth's wickedness. We 

shall gather with him on the other shore." 





172 WILL REMAIN AT HOME. 

I remember when he was blighted, though its a long 
time ago. He undertook to lick a fellow who wouldn't 
vote his ticket, and he was knocked over a chair and had 
his skull fractured. The coroner said it was the worst 
blight he had seen in six months. I don't know r but his 
numerous family will " gather with him on the other side," 
but I have my doubts. If they should ever see him again, 
or if they think they will, I know of several grocers and 
butchers who will give 'em fifteen per cent to collect 
accounts of twelve years' standing. 

I found Deacon Warner's tombstone also. It bears a 
stern, solemn look, just as he used to, and it says : 
" Heaven's gates shall open to us who are like him." 

Perhaps they will. "Whether they do 
or not, I shall always remember how he 
sold me a blind horse when I had sore 
eyes ; how he raised house rent on 
the wddows; how a Justice fined him 
twenty-five dollars for thrashing a poor 
bound-boy; how he put chicory in his 
coffee and hay-seed in his tea, and how 
'Like'h™* 1 *' regularly he used to pass the contribu- 
tion box to the rest of us, but forgot to put in anything 
himself. If the gates of Heaven are going to be held wide 
open for those of Deacon Warner's class, I want to put in 
my time in Michigan. 







GIRL WANTED. 




ES, I want another — "A tidy girl to do 
house -work in a small family — good 
wages and a good home." That's the 
way my advertisement always reads, 
and as soon as the paper is out the girls 
commence coming. Tidy girls from ten 
to sixty-five years old come pulling the 
bell, and when told that they won't suit 
% they put on such a look of contempt for 
the door, the door-plate, the front gate 
^ and the entire institution, that the world 
seems three degrees hotter than before. 

I always engage the girl. This is because of an idea of 
mine that I can read human nature, and because I do not 
fear to tell them in plain English what is expected of them. 
After the door-bell has been pulled about five times, the 
right-looking sort of a girl makes her appearance. She 
says she saw the advertisement, and is invited in. She says 
she can do any kind of cooking; loves to wash; is fond of 
children; can never sleep after five o'clock in the morning; 
never goes out evenings; does not know a young man in 
1 >etroit, and she'd be willing to work for low wages for the 
Bake of getting a good home. 

She is told to drop her bundle, lay off her things and ir i 
to work, and a groat burden rolls off my mind as I con- 

173 



174 



SARAH AND HANNAH. 






gratulate myself that the prize-medal girl has arrived at 
last. She's all right up to about seven in the evening, 
when she is suddenly missed, and returns about ten o'clock 
to say that she "just dropped out " to get a postage-stamp. 
The next day she begins to scatter the tea-spoons in the 
back-yard, stops her ironing to read a dime novel, and at 
supper-time wants to know if I can't send the children off 
to live with their grandfather, get a cook stove with silver- 
plated knobs and have an addition built to the kitchen. 
That evening a big red-headed butcher walks in, crosses 
his legs over the kitchen table, and proceeds to court Sarah. 
She doesn't last but a day or two longer, and then we 
secure another. 




'Girl 'Wanted!" 



This one is right from New Hampshire, and doesn't know 
a soul in Michigan, and yet she hasn't finished the dinner 
dishes before a cross-eyed young man rings the bell and 
says he'd like to see Hannah for a moment. After seeing 
him, Hannah concludes not to stay, as we are so far from 



STILL WANTING. 175 

St. John's church, and as we don't appear to he religious 
people. 

The next one especially recommends herself as being 
"just like their own mother" to the children, and isn't in 
the house half a day before she draws Small Pica over her 
knee and gives him a regular old Canadian waltz. 

The next one has five recommendations as a neat and 
tidy girl, and yet it isn't three days before she bakes the 
shoe brush with the beef, washes her hands in a soup 
tureen, or drops hairpins into the pudding. 

I growl about these things after a while, but I am met 
with the statement that they had worked five years for 
Governor this, or Lord that, and that in all that time no 
one had so much as looked cross-eyed at them. I am 
called mean, ill-tempered, particular, fault-finding, and all 
that, and the girl goes away wondering why the Lord has 
spared me as long as He has. 

We've been wanting " a good, tidy girl " fbr these last 
twelve years, and I suppose that we may go another dozen 
and still be wanting. 



THE PROOF-READER. 



(p)LAST him ! 

(g^ I beg the pardon of every reader, male and female, 
for using the above expression. It is the first time I ever 
used it, and it shall be the last. 

He, the proof-reader, commenced on me fourteen years 
ago, has followed me like a sleuth-hound down the long 
valley of years, and to-day his demoniac laugh fell on my 
ears as I climbed the stairs. 

May he be mashed on the railroad the first time he 
travels ! May the midnight cat disturb his slumbers until 
he is worn ddwn to a shadow, and then may some omnibus 
run over the shadow ! 

I never wrote a pathetic article that the proof-reader 
didn't spoil. Once he made " silent tomb " read " Silent 
Thomas," and when I charged down on him he excused 
his criminal carelessness by saying that he thought his 
error made the article much more powerful and pathetic ! 

Another time, when I wrote an article headed " The 
Silent Dead," the villain — the perjured, unprincipled 
wretch — made it read " The Silvery Deaf!" and he had 
the impudence to tell me that almost any sort of a head 
was good enough for anything I wrote ! 

"When I have reported a political speech by Barnes, the 
proof-reader has made it a speech by Baker. When I have 
reported an accident to Taylor he has put in the name of 
Trotter. When I have said that a newly-launched schooner 

176 



CAN'T REDUCE 'EM. 177 

was thirty-two feet beam lie lias made me say " barn," or 
made the thirty-two feet thirty-two rods. 

Mav his wife have a continual cough, and may his chil- 
dren have chicken-pox from the cradle to the grave ! 

When I have said that the First Baptist church was to 
have a new organ he has made the item read "new orphan." 
When I have said that the lurid names leaped high in air 
before an alarm was sounded, he has made me .say " the 
ludicrous " flames. When I have said that the bride was 
elegantly attired, he has made me say " elegantly attached." 

May no tailor trust him ! May all dogs bite him ! May 
he sink with an ocean steamer, get scorched in a prairie 
fire, or go down with some falling bridge ! Every village 
board and city council should pass an ordinance making it 
a misdemeanor for any person to harbor a proof-reader 
over night. They never die. They grow old until they 
reach a certain impudent point, and then they stick right 
there. ^Nothing ever throws them out of a situation. They 
go on year after year, killing editors and reporters by 
inches, and there is no law to prevent. If they get con- 
sumption they still live. If they fall down stairs they do 
not break a bone. If they become blind they go right on 
reading proof and putting in " Dick and Kate " for the 
fairly written " delicate." 

Blast ! But I said I wouldn't. 



JORKS, EX-PHILANTHROPIST. 



fHERE was a time when he believed in philanthropy, 
and it was a hard struggle for him to give it up and 
admit that it was his solemn duty to attend to his own 
business and use the world as the world used him. 

When he was a boy he heard a preacher preach a ser- 
mon on the sin of covetousness, and he 
resolved never to covet. He got along 
quite well for a day or two, and then hear- 
ing his father express a wish that he had 
been born rich, young Jorks raised his 
voice and replied : 

" Father, it is a sin to covet 1 ?' 

The old man looked at him from three 

'V. 

or four different ways, and then said : 
Jorks. " I see I've got to warm you up again ! 

You haven't had a good basting in four weeks, and you 
are growing sassy again !" 

He thereupon arose, carefully selected a barrel-stave, and 
he made his first-born hop three feet high. 

When he had older grown, Jorks read that it was the 
duty of mankind to speak soothing words to the weary and 
heavy-laden victims of misfortune. He didn't find any for 
some time, but at last came across a chap whose wife had 
just slid out with another man. He had a limpid eye and 
a melancholy face, and Jorks patted him on the shoulder 
and said : 

178 




HE TRIES AGAIN. 



179 



" Cheer up, my friend. Though all is dark and drear 
to-day, to-morrow may be golden with bright promises." 
" Young man, yer drunk !" replied the stranger. 

" Drunk ? Why, my dear " 

"Then I'm a liar, am I!" exclaimed the stranger, and 
he spat twice on his left hand, and twice on his right, 
and Jorks was knocked into a three-cornered mass of 

mistaken philanthropy. 
Some time after that 
he decided to " speak 
gently to the erring 
ones." He read of a 
case where a desperate 
criminal had been thor- 
oughly reformed by a 
kind word spoken at 
the right moment, and 
he looked around for a 
criminal. Kemember- 
ing that he had read items in the daily papers reflecting 
on tfie wickedness of a saloon-keeper named Dutch Jake, 
Jorks went down and called on him and said : 

" My kind friend, let me help you to raise yourself out 
of this pit of degradation." 

" Vhat you shpokes about ?" inquired Jake. 
" Throw this avocation aside — rise above it — become a 
man !" continued Jorks. 

" Who's goin' to lick me !" shouted Jake, shedding his 
coat. 

" No one, my friend ; I was trying to encourage you — to 

stimulate " 

And Jake chucked him up against the wall, loosened his 
teeth, battered his nose, and kicked him out on the walk 
to the police. 




180 



FINALLY GETS OVEli IT. 



Jorks didn't want to give it up. He took homeless 
vagrants to his house, and they stole his Sunday suit and 
silver forks ; he lent money to hard-up strangers, and they 
were never heard of afterwards ; he took weeping lost 
children in his arms to soothe them, and was arrested on 
the charge of attempted abduction ; he emptied his pantry 
to feed beggars, and they returned and 
stole his chickens. He finally quit, 
and to his surprise he found that the 
world went on just as well. 

Jorks isn't a philan- 
thropist any more; he 
figured it up and found 
that philanthropy didn't 
pay one per cent on the 
capital invested, and that 
he was being called " an 
old fool " thirteen times " Cast Thy Bread " 

where he was called a " philanthropist " once. I don't know 
at this hour where any one can get more fun for the money 
than to stand on the corner opposite Jorks' house and 
see the cheerful alacrity with which he helps a beggar off 
the steps, and hear his tender voice crying out: 

" Durn ye, man ! this is the tenth time you have called 
here this week!" 




ONLY AN OHIO MAN. 




MONG the railroad travelers eating dinner at 
a hotel in Detroit one day was a chap from 
Fayette, Ohio, who hoisted in meat, potato 
* and bread as if he had been a week without 
eating. A second cup of coffee was brought 
M him, and in his hurry he picked it up and 
, /•. took a large swallow. It was considerably 
hotter than pepper, and in his excitement 
the Buckeye opened his mouth and shot the liquid across 
the table against a, young man's shirt bosom. 

" Gosh — whoop — hot — beg pardon — blazes — who-o-o!" 
he exclaimed, reaching after water. 

" You're a hog, sir !" replied the young man, " a regular 
hog!" 

" I am, eh ?" 
" Yes, sir." 

" And I've got bristles ?" 
" Yes, you have." 
" And I grunt ?" 
" Yes, sir." 

" Stranger," said the Buckeye as he reached across after 
another slapjack, " stranger, I'm not a hog — I'm only an 
Ohio man, bound for Lansing." 

181 



A CAREFUL MAN. 



OT for a thousand dollars a day would I be like Mr. 
Rugby, and yet I am his friend. He is a careful 
man — one of your every-day philosophers, and he wouldn't 
yell "Hip! hurrah!" if New Year's, Christmas, Thanks- 
giving and Fourth of July were rolled into one, and cham- 
pagne was knee-deep all over the street. 

When a beggar asks Mr. Rugby for alms, something like 
the following conversation ensues : 

" You say your name is Thompson ?" 

"Yes." 

" It may be Thompson — it may be Brown ; how am I 
to know ?" 

" But I'm hungry." 

" You may be hungry — you may not; it's an open ques- 
tion, and a very serious question. If you are hungry you 
should have food ; if not, any extra food at this time would 
impair your digestion." 

" I'm almost sick," says the beggar. 

" You may be — you may not," is the reply. " I am not 
a physician, and I am not able to say. If sick, you should 
have medicine ; if not, medicine would be simply thrown 
away." 

" I have five children." 

" You may have five — you may have fifty ; I shall not pre- 
tend to say, as I do not know. No one, my dear man, should 
ever say he knows this or that when he does not know. 

182 



can't be caught. 188 

They say it is ninety-five millions of miles to the sun, hut 
I do not say so. How do I know it is ; I cannot measure 
it, and it may lack a hundred miles, or overrun a thousand. 
They also say " 

By this time the beggar has become discouraged and 
passed on, and Mr. Rugby has no one to listen to his 
further explanation. 

If I meet him on the street, I say : 

"Howdy, Mr. Rugby — fine day, isn't it?" 

" It is a fine day here" he replies, " but I do not know 
how it is in Chicago, Cleveland, Savannah or San Fran- 
cisco, and I cannot answer in a general way." 

If I hear the fire-bells go ringing, I grab my hat and 
rush out and plunge around, and if I see Rugby, I shout : 

" Ho ! ha ! whoop — fire on Harrison avenue !" 

" How do you know ?" he inquires. 

" Because the alarm is from box seventeen." 

" But it may be a false alarm." 

"No — I see smoke." 

" Which may be caused by a bonfire." 

"But I see flames." 

" It may be a burning chimney." 

I feel mad enough to boot him, and I can't half enjoy 
the balance of the evening. 

"When General Grant was elected, and the news came 
over the wires, and many people were half-wild, I rushed 
into Rugby's house and yelled : 

" Well, Grant's elected !" 

" How do you know?" he asked. 

" Know ! why, there's a big blow-out down town !" 

" But has any one seen Mr. Grant ?" 

" Of course not." 

" Has he informed any one here of his election ?" 

" Why, no, but the telegraph says so." 



184 NOT YET CONVINCED. 

" How does the telegraph know ?" he queried, and I don't 
believe he is really certain in his own mind to this day 
whether Grant is President or not. 

He will die some day, and I hope he will reach Heaven. 
If he does, he will engage in a conversation something as 
follows : 

" Is this the gate of Heaven ?" he will ask St. Peter. 

"Yes; come in." 

" Then this is Heaven, eh ?" 

" Yes." 

" How do I know that it is Heaven ?" 

" This is the gate — come in." 

" I can't do it. It may be Heaven — it may not. I'll sit 
down on this log until I get some reliable news." 







HIS TIME FOR FIDDLING. 




4^N 
EANDERING along on the shady side 
^of the street, a book canvasser finally 
\ halted before a tumble-down tene- 
ment. A small lame boy opened the 
door in answer to his knock, and just 
as he entered, a man sitting on the 
edge of a forlorn-looking bed raised a 
If „. W, ^ fiddle to his shoulder and commenced 
scraping out a time. 
" Have you a Bible in the house ?" asked the can- 
vasser as he crossed the room. 

" Nary Bibe," answered the man ; " and — 

Old Dan Tucker 
Drempt a dream!" 

" Or a hymn-book ?" continued the canvasser. 
" No — nary, and — 

If you love me, Mollie, darling, 
Let your answer be a kiss." 

" I am agent for the sale of this Bible," said the canvas- 
ser, taking the volume out of his satchel. 
" Couldn't buy one cover, and — 

Oh, darkies, how ray heart grows weary, 
S'ghing for the old 'folks at home." 

1 35 



180 



FURTHER MUSIC. 



" I can sell you the book for a small amount down and 

the balance in weekly payments. A great many " 

" Bibuls are all right, but I've got a sore foot, and — 

'Twas a calm still night, 
And the moon's pale light — " 

" If you do not care to read the book yourself you should 

not refuse your child permission," remarked the canvasser. 

" And the old woman's up stairs, sick with fever, and — 

They took her off to Georgia 
To toil her liie away." 




" But it seems hard to think that you are permitting 
yourself and family to live in ignorance of religious " 

" Bibuls is all right, and I'd encourage 'em if times 
wasn't so blasted — 

Ha! ha! ha! you and me — 

Little hrown jug, don't I love thee!" 

" I have a smaller edition like this. You can have that 
by paying fifty cents down and twenty-five cents per week 
until paid up." 

" No use, stranger," replied the man ; " there haint noth- 
ing to do, money is tight, and — 

I've wandered this wide world all over." 



IT WAS HIS TIME. 187 

" I wish you would cease that fiddling and singing for a 
moment and let me talk to you," said the agent. 
" Bibuls is all right — you are all right, and — 

Oh! this world is sad and dreary, 
Everywhere I roam!" 

" Won't you stop for just one moment?" 
" I'd like to oblige you, but now's my reg'lar time for 
fiddling and singing, and — 

Up in a balloon, boys, 
Up in a balloon." 

" Then I can't sell you a Bible ?" 
" Don't look as if you could, for — 

I've wandered through the village, Tom, 
I've sat beneath the tree." 

And the canvasser left the house in despair. 




TOPSY TUMBLE. 



HE wasn't a bad sort of a girl for one who had been 
brought up in an alley all her days, living with old 
Mother Hart ever since she was large enough to gather 
chips around the ship-yard. The boys called her Topsy 
Tumble, and nobody knew anything about her parents or 
relatives. Her hair was long and matted ; her face tanned 
to a brown ; her nose always bore a stain of dirt, and she 
had stone-bruises on her feet, and chapped hands and sore 
heels, just like the ragged boys with whom she played. The 
" society " of the alley rather cut Topsy Tumble, but she 
was independent, and she made faces at " society " from 
the top of coal-sheds, and allowed herself to be harnessed 
up beside Bob White when the boys wanted a blooded 
team to draw a creaking cart down around the railroad 
crossing. 

The alley was unusually quiet the other week. Topsy 
Tumble was sick. Mother Hart said so when Bob White 
went to see if Topsy wanted to trade her old jack-knife for 
a small dog which he had picked up on Atwater street. 
It was a strange thing, her illness. For eleven years she 
had rolled in the dirt, waded through the snow and plashed 
around in the mud, and nobody had ever heard her com- 
plain of anything more than a stubbed toe. Bob couldn't 
make it out. He and Bill Davis and Sam Sharp and Chip 
Larkins sat in the shade of a truck-wagon going to decay, 
and talked it over. It would be rough on Mother Hart to 

188 




l li orrtcLTtce, of an ^ ///<■//. 

Di. \rii of Tops"? Ti mble. 



WHAT MRS. HART SAID. 189 

have sickness and boar a doctor's bill, and they wondered 
if Topsy would get well in time to go out with them the 
next week. 

The doctor said it was a bad fever, and most of the folks 
in John Brown alley called in to say that they would sit 
up nights and do anything they could. Topsy was out of 
her head, talking strange tilings ; and, after looking at her 
flushed face and listening to her mutterings, Bob White 
called the boys together on top of a coal-shed, and there 
was a lump in his throat as he whispered : 

" Boys, Topsy's a-goin' to die !" 

The boys looked around over the sheds and made no 
reply, and by and by they slid down one by one and went 
home. There was no more dog-fighting in the alley — 
no pounding of fire-alarms on the old steamboat boiler and 
then rushing the " machine " up to the corner. Columbus 
Jones brought his rooster down and wanted to bet a kite 
that it could clean out any chicken in John Brown alley, 
but the boys had no enthusiasm. 

Topsy grew worse. The doctor called twice a day, but 
his medicine didn't touch the case, and he told Mother 
Hart that Topsy must die. The old woman felt a little 
weak, and her eyes grew misty. It had been a score of 
years since she had wept for grief, and she could not 
remember when she had thought of death. 

The neighbors came in, and they tip-toed across the 
room, and kept their babies still, that the dying girl might 
hear no harsh sound. Bob White and his chums hung 
around the door awhile, and finally gathered courage to 
pull oft* their hats and enter the house. Mother Hart 
motioned for them to take seats on the bench at the head 
of the bed, and she whispered in a weak voice : 

"Bob, I'm afeard we're going to lose Topsy!" 

Bob wiped his eyes, and his chin quivered, and some of 
the boys broke clear down and wept. 



190 THE ANGELS CAME. 

Topsy was unconscious. The boys wondered at the pal- 
lor of her face and the whiteness of her hands, and the 
women shed tears. Mother Hart kept wiping her eyes on 
her apron, and the boys wondered if sitting there wasn't 
something like going to meeting. 

" She was a good girl, Topsy was," whispered One of 
the women. 

" And so willing to help her mother," said another. 

"And she stood up for John Brown alley!" added Bob 
"White, a sob in his throat. 

Darkness settled down, and they almost lost sight of the 
white face. ~No one moved. Some of the babies fell 
asleep, and the mothers trotted them softly, and the boys 
almost dozed as they sat crooked upon the bench. The 
shadows of night grew deeper, and the rattle of a truck 
going home sounded painfully loud and harsh. Mother 
Hart moved softly over and lighted the little old lamp, and 
as she held it up the woman said : " Poor dear !" and Bob 
"White leaned over on Chip Larkins' shoulder and sobbed 
aloud. 

Topsy Tumble was dead ! 

The little soul, never washed by mother's tears — never 
made better by a word about Heaven — never drinking in 
the knowledge that only the body dies — had crossed the 
dark valley alone, having only the tears and heartaches of 
the dwellers in John Brown alley to plead its case with the 
angels. 



THE FIRST HOUSE IN MICHIGAN. 




OT long since, I stood before the first house ever 
erected in Michigan. A thousand sad memories 
gurgled up. 

It isn't every person who can appreciate these old relics 
and call out all the tender fancies connected with them. 
I have known old houses more or less ever since my birth, 
and I can appreciate a dozen of 'em at once. 

It made me feel lonely to stand before that old first 
house. It seemed a sacred thing in my eyes. 

The man who built it, a hundred years ago, wasn't there 
any more. No, I looked around and could sec nothing of 
him. However, I could appreciate his pioneer struggles, 
his griefs and heartaches, just the same, and the fact of his 
absence was excused as I gazed at the ancient hut, fast 
going to decay. It wasn't a first-class house any more. 
The door had rotted away, 
some of the logs were crum- 
bling to dust, and there was 
a general tearful look to the 
whole concern. I sat 
down on a 
log and wept. 

It is a sad 
thing to sit 

on a log and be overwhelmed with memories of the past — 
of a hundred years ..go. There that old first house was 

191 




192 A BASE PROPOSITION. 

fast falling to decay, and the general public didn't seem to 
care a picayune about it. Two boys were probing a wood- 
chuck's den not fifty rods awa}% and a red-headed man was 
washing a one-horse wagon in a pond whose waters almost 
touched the sacred loe^s. 
I went over to him. 

He seemed like an emotional man — like one whose heart- 
strings would yank a little as fond memory played on them 
a tune of Ions: aor>. 

" It is a sad thing to look upon the first house erected in 
Michigan, isn't it?" I queried. 

The man with red hair looked up and grinned, and as 
he rubbed away at the mud-stained spokes, he replied : 
" Want to buy a dog, stranger ?" 

" A dog, sir ? Man, have you no soul — no heart-strings ! 

I am plunged in sadness as I look upon these old logs. I 

think I hear a funeral bell tolling the death of the past !" 

" It's one of those blasted locomotives down at the 

bend !" he replied, raising his head to listen. 

" Hark ! Doesn't the breeze rustling the tender limbs 
of the beeches seem to sing sad requiems o'er the dead 
past?" 

" Sounds to me like a feller whistling, over there by the 
slaughter-house !" replied the unfeeling wretch. 

I went back to the house and wept 
anew. 

Who built that house ? Was his 
name Smith or Robinson or Brown ? 
Was there any living witness of his 
pioneer hardships and privations ? 

The red-headed man came over and 
inquired : 
" So, you wouldn't like to buy a dog?" 
" Murderer !" I shouted, how dare you come within this 




STILL ON THE BASE. 193 

circle of memory's influence and basely ask me to purchase 
your dog !" 

" I can recommend him for coon !" he quietly observed. 
"See there! man — gaze on those venerated logs!" I 
said, as I caught his arm. " Is it possible that you can 
stand here and think of dogs and one-horse wagons and 
postal currency when I am trembling with emotion caused 
by the recollections of the silent, speechless dead who came 
here and hewed out the whispering wilderness and erected 
that cabin?" 

" Do you have these spells often ?" he inquired in a 
harsh, cruel tone. 

I pointed to his one-horse wagon, but he wouldn't go. 
I wept some more. 

"Haven't any navy plug about you?" 
he inquired, as I looked through my tears 
at the precious logs. 

" Wretch ! go away — go hence and afar! 
If your heart cannot throb and your soul 
yearn, go away and let me feel my 
feelings !" 

" I'll be hanged if I do !" he replied as he sat down. " I 
believe I'd better keep an eye on you !" 

I walked around that sacred house, and that monster sat 
there and whistled : " Shoo, Fly !" I peered in at the 
door — at the smoke-stained rafters and the crumbling logs, 
and he sang : " If ever I cease to love !" 

I sat down and was listening to the sad whispers of the 
soft wind when another man came down to the pond. 
He was leading something. 
It was not a horse. 
It was not a dromedary. 
It was not a cow. 

The boys got into a fight over the wood-chuck. 
M 




194 



A VAIN CALL FROM MEMORY. 



The red-headed man sang: "Ten Thousand Miles 
Away." 

The beast hung back and brayed. 
I went away from there, but even as I 
walked slowly away, fond memory calling out 

to me not to leave 
her, the red-head- 
ed man tore a 
pole off the roof 
j of that sacred old 
structure, and I 
heard him yell 




Not a Dromedary. 



out 



" Hang to the halter, Tom, while I wollop the infernal 
old cundurango up strong !" 




HOW A WOMAN READS A LETTER. 



HE knows it by the postmark. No one but Augusta 
Ann Greenville lives where that letter was posted. 
She turns the letter over nine or ten times, looks to see if 
it has been tampered with, and finally pinches one end 
open. She regrets that she didn't open it on the side, but 
it is too late. After the letter is out she looks into the 
envelope to see if it contains anything more, though she 
knew it didn't. 

She unfolds the letter at last, and flops it over to see the 
signature on the fourth page. Then she reads the date and 
compares it with the postmark to see how long the precious 
missive has been on the road. Two whole days ! Bless 
her ! but she has been to Fishertown a dozen times, and it 
never took her but twenty-three hours. Those post-office 
folks are getting awful reckless. By and by they won't 
care whether she gets a letter at all. 

She finally reads : 

" Dear, darling Mollk : — I have had such times since I 
wrote you before ! You know Jim Taylor " 

(Then she talks) : 

" Know Jim Taylor — guess I do ! Didn't he take me to 
spelling school the night I wore that serge dress trimmed 
with fringe. I've heard that Jim's uncle Dan was sent to 
State's prison for stealing a horse, but I don't see how they 

195 



196 TALKS AND READS. 

can blame Jim, I'm sure he isn't responsible for what his 
uncles do. But let's see what she says about Jim." 

(Then she reads) : 

" — Well, Jim Taylor came home with me from the dona- 
tion the other night, and what do you think he said ? I 
was never so astonished in my life. He said that Tom 
Goodale and Minnie Nettleton were " 

(Then she talks): 

" Mercy sakes alive ! but is that Tom Goodale going to 
throw himself away on such a pink-faced simpleton as 
Minnie Nettleton ! I can't believe it. Why, he's rich, he 
is, and she hasn't got the second dress to her back ! He 
must marry her for her beauty, though I don't call her 
handsome. Well, well, if that don't amaze me !" 

(Then she reads) : 

" And Minnie Nettleton were down to Blakely's husking 
bee, and they never spoke to each other ! Isn't it awful ? 
You know I wrote you that they were going to get mar- 
ried? I had it on the authority of Nancy " 

(Then she talks) : 

" Collins, of course ! If any one is going to get married, 
Nancy Collins is sure to know all about it a year before- 
hand. I remember the day we went to Orchard Lake to 
the Good Templars' excursion, and she said my curls were 
false, and that my nose was too large for my face ! Dear 
me, but didn't I give her such a look !" 

■ (Then she reads) : 
— " who is now lying at the point of death. They say she 
caught the fever nursing Parson Gray, who " 

(Then she talks) : 

" Who is looking around for a second wife, I suppose. 
Well, I wonder how he came to fall sick ? And did you 
ever hear of such a thing as his sending for that old maid 
to nurse him ? Poor man ! I hope he'll live and make a 



WOULD LIKE SOME NEWS. 



197 



happy match this time. They say his wife wasn't a bit 
refined, and that the fact used to mortify him awfully. I 
wonder if Augusta Ann mentions anything about it ? 

Then she reads, talks, goes over the letter a second time, 
folds it up and puts it away, and declares that she'd give 
most anything to get a real letter — one with some news 
and gossip in. 




AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 




UNG man, this is a pretty way to commence the 
year 1875, isn't it ?" exclaimed his Honor, as 
Michael Smith stood before him in pensive attitude. 
" I'm sorry," replied the prisoner. 

" Yes, so am I. It gives me the heart-burn to see a 
youth of twenty-two flopped out here on a charge of drunk- 
enness. If that's the way you start off the new year, 
where do you expect to land at its close ? " 

" I'll do better, sir — I've sworn off." 
The Court picked up his snuff-box, 
gently tapped the bottom, removed the 
lid, inhaled a fragrant pinch, and con- 
tinued : 

"Mr. Smith, there's a scratch on 
your nose, dirt on your chin, and you 
look demoralized out of your eyes, but 
I'll try you. I don't want to fall on a 
young man like a horse on a butterfly 
the first time he comes here, but let 
the first also be the last time with you. 
Consider, sir, that you have had a nar- 
narrow escape. row escape ; go home and be wise. 

A NEW TEARS CALLER. 
John Robinson made New Year's calls. He called on a 
saloon-keeper, he called for liquor, called the liquor good, 

198 




ANOTHER PAIR. 199 

and drank enough to trip him up. Then he called for 
police, and when the police came he called them liars and 
such. 

" I was having a little fun," he explained, winking at 
his Honor. 

"John Robinson, are you aware that this is a very 
solemn world," said the Court, " a world which has ten 
heart-aches to one smile ? Don't you know that the grim 
shadow of grief rests upon every door-step, and that the 
tomb-stones in the cemeteries almost outnumber the trees 
in the forest ? There's wailing in every household, John 
Robinson — there's grief in every heart. And yet you claim 
that you were only having a little fun !" 

" That's all, your Honor — it was a holiday." 

" It was sad fun, John Robinson. While all the rest of 
us were swearing off and making double-back-action 
resolves, you were lying at the corner of an alley dead 
drunk. It is five dollars or sixty days, sir, and if this case 
was before a Chicago police justice he'd make it five hun- 
dred dollars or a life sentence." 

SOME FIGURING. 

"It's the last time !" exclaimed Anthony Hock as he was 
brought out. 

" You've decided to quit, eh ?" 

" Yes, your Honor — yesterday was my last drunk. I've 
been counting up the cost, and I've made up my mind to 
live sober and save money after this." 

" Anthony Hock, you talk like a man ! It does me good 
to hear a man speak up that way in this day and age. It's 
like finding a ten-dollar bill while one is pawing over the 
clothes-basket to discover where the hired girl flung his 
Sunday boots. Stand right up to your resolution, sir. 
I've been figuring a little, and I find that if a man will stop 




200 A FAMILIAR FACE. 

drinking liquor, tea and coffee, go barefooted, steal his 
wood, get trusted for his provisions, cheat the landlord out 
of his rent, stand up in church to save pew-rent, and live 
economically in other respects, he can 
save at least §500 per year. Now then, 
$500 per year for 400 years is $200,000. 
Just think of that ! Without any effort 
to speak of you can in time be worth 
$200,000 ! You can go home, sir !" 

FIRST JOKE. 
Elizabeth McNamara, a woman fifty 

Economy the Road to ■, -i , /». .-. /» . • ■> n j_i 

wealth. years old, got on the first joke ot the 

season when she walked out and boldly announced that it 
was her first" appearance here. Bijah laughed until his 
spectacles fell off, the clerk grinned like a copper mine, 
and his Honor stopped paring his apple, stuck his knife 
into the desji and replied : 

" Elizabeth MaNamara, the sight of that 'ere front door 
is not more familiar to me than the fact that you have been 
here somewhere in the region of forty times. What's the 
charge, this time ?" 

" Taken a drap — a bit of a little small drap." 

" I've let you off, sent you up, expostulated, pleaded and 
threatened, and yet you come back here," he said. " I was 
thinking the other day that if I ever peered over the desk 
at your freckled n<jse again, and the charge was drunken- 
ness, I'd have you sawed in two with a cross-cut saw and 
the pieces split up for kindling-wood !" 

" Don't do it, sir — send me up again." 

" I shall make it three months." 

" I don't care — only don't saw me in twice !" she 
gasped. 

" Well," he said, after pondering over the case, " we've 
been to $10 expense to get the saw, and Bijah has antici- 



bijah's pun. 201 

pated great fun, but I'll see what three months will do. 
Go back and sit down on the stove-hearth until the Black 
Maria goes up." 

COULDN'T STAND IT. 

" This is Daniel Casey," said Bijah as he handed out the 
last man, " and I can tell you why he was drunk." 

"Well." 

" Casey wasn't sober !" continued the old janitor. 

His Honor regarded him for a long time without speak- 
ing, but finally said : 

" The prisoner can go, and, Bijah, if you ever sit down 
on this court with another pun like that, and are accident- 
ally shot next day, your friends musn't ask me for any 
money to help buy a monument." 




THE LADY WE ALL FEAR. 



BOARD now, and I think I have one of the kindest 
landladies in the world. She seems to think a great 
deal of me, and I sometimes almost decide that I 
should weep if any harm were to come to her. 

She is very particular about her boarders. Before she 
would take me in I was compelled to get a certificate from 
three clergymen, two bankers and a lawyer, stating that I 
had never been hung for murder or sent to State Prison 
for horse stealing. I bargained for a front room looking 
out on the Campus Martius, and it was understood that I 
was to have the room alone. On the third night I went 
home and found a stranger in bed, and when I began to 
raise a row, Mrs. Dolby caught my arm and said : 

" There, now, be a good, dear 
man, and say no more. He's a 
preacher, and he's going away to- 
morrow. I thought you wouldn't 
mind it just one night." 

At the end of the week she beck- 
oned me aside, and smiling like a 
load of fresh hay, she wanted to 
know if I would do her a favor, a 
favor which would place her under 
many obligations to me. I replied 
That Ss that I would die for her, and then 

she asked me to give up the room looking out upon the 

202 




FURTHER CONCESSIONS. 203 

grand square and take one looking out upon the grand 
alley, full of ash-barrels and oyster cans. She had a 
boarder coming who was awful particular, and she knew 
that I would do anything to accommodate her. I made 
the change, and the grateful look she gave me was enough 
to melt a vest button. I had only got fairly settled when 
I was told that she wanted to see me in the parlor after 
dinner. I found her in tears. She said a very nice man 
and his very nice wife wanted to come and board with her, 
but she had no room, and it grieved her to think that she 
must turn them away when she was so hard pushed to get 
along. 

I told her that if I had a hundred lives I would lay them 
all down for her and borrow a hundred more and add to 
the pile, and she seized my hand and said that Heaven 
would surely reward me for being so good to a fatherless 
orphan. I moved into the garret, and the awful particu- 
lar man moved into my room, and the very nice man and 
his very nice wife moved into the front room. 

In another week Mrs. Dolby whispered to me and 
wanted to know if I had a snake in my stomach. She had 
observed that I was a hearty eater, and she did not know 
but I had a snake. I set her right, and when I promised 
to take free lunches down town and urge all the other 
boarders to do the same, she put her hand on my shoulder 
and remarked that Heaven had a place for me. 

That night my bed was made without sheets, and when 
I went to raise a row she took me by the hand and said 
that her experience went to show that it was healthier to 
sleep without sheets. I was going to argue the question, 
when tears came to her eyes, and she hoped I would not 
say anything to hurt a poor, lone widow, whose life had 
been one long struggle with poverty. 

The next night the feather bed and one of the pillows 



204 LOVE HER STILL. 

went, but I didn't say anything. Then she wanted to borrow 
my tooth-brush for a boarder who hadn't any, and she took 
my stove to use in the lower hall. I did not say a word 
until she wanted to know if I couldn't spare the old rag- 
carpet off" the floor, and if I wouldn't set the other boarders 
an example by drinking nothing but water, and not take 
the second biscuit. Then I told her that I was going to 
leave the house and try to tear her image from my heart. 

She seized both my hands, tears rolled down her cheeks, 
and she asked : 

" Mr. Quad, would you deliberately plot to kill a lone- 
some widow, who is working her life out to make your 
position here comfortable, happy and luxurious ?" 

I couldn't go. I'm here yet. I sleep on the floor, put 
up with cold bites, and use the boot-jack for a chair when 
I have company. I wish I wasn't so tender-hearted, but I 
can't bear to think of hurting Mrs. Dolby's feelings by 
looking up another place. 




A DETERMINED YOUNG MAN. 



>T was out on the Ilolden Road, near Detroit, that a 
carriage in which was seated two fond lovers, was run 
away with by the spirited horse. As they came dash- 
ing past a farm gate the farmer saw that the young man 
was making no effort to check the animal, and he yelled : 
" Why don't you stop that horse — he's running away !" 
"Yes, I know it!" shouted the young man, "but I'll 
keep my arm around this girl if it takes every spoke in 
the wheels !" 

205 



A PIONEER JUSTICE. 




NE of the counties in the central part of 
Michigan, when it had but few inhabitants, 
elected a man named Goodhue to serve 
as Justice of the Peace. The Justice felt 
the dignity of his position, and he made up 
his mind at the start that he would take no 
nonsense from the lawyers. 

His office was the bar-room of a log 
tavern, his desk a dry-goods box, and his 
" docket " consisted of the two fly-leaves in a spelling- 
book. His first case was the trial of a man who was 
charged with stealing a rifle. The complainant had missed 
the gun from his " chopping," and it had next been found 
in possession of the defendant, who was seeking to 
exchange it for a hound. 

The two scrub lawyers of the village were opposed to 
each other, and as the case was considered an important 
one, each attorney was prepared to cover the jury with a 
mantle of eloquence. The Justice took his seat with a 
determination to have no " fooling around," and he soon 
had opportunity to exercise his authority. 

" May it please your Honor " commenced the prose- 
cution, when up rose Goodhue and replied : 
" Confine yourself to the case, sir !" 
The lawyer was taken aback, but after a moment began : 

206 



OliEY THE RULES. 



207 



" Gentlemen of the jury, 



" Confine yourself to the case, I say!" interrupted the 
Justice. 

" Why, I haven't begun yet !" replied the lawyer in great 
surprise. 

" Well, if you've got anything to say go ahead and say 
it, but talk to me. The jury has nothing to do with this 
case !" 

" Well, your Honor," said the lawyer, " we propose to 
prove that " 




" Hold on ! stop right there !" exclaimed his Honor, " I 
don't want to hear what you propose to prove — I want to 
know what you can prove !" 

" It is usual, I believe, in opening a case, to state " 

" Can't help what it's usual to do !" interrupted the 
Court; "this court doesn't care a dum what other courts 
have done ! If you want to practice at this bar you've got 
to obey the rules !" 



208 wouldn't take sass. 

The lawyer saw that he had better leave out his state- 
ment, and he called his first witness, who happened to be 
a deaf man. As the man took the stand the lawyer said : 

" Now, Mr. Brown, go on and tell the jury what you 
know about this case." 

" Tell who !" cried the Court, jumping up. " I want 
you to understand that I'm trying this case ! If I ain't 
Judge here, who is?" 

" Well, tell the Court what you know about this case," 
said the lawyer to his witness. 

" Eh ?" queried Brown, bending forward. 

" Tell the Court what you know " 

" Tell the Court nothing !" exclaimed Goodhue. " The 
man is deaf — what does he know about this case !" 

" Deaf men can see, can't they ?" asked the lawyer. 

"No sass, sir, or I'll fine you five thousand dollars!" 
warned the Justice. 

The lawyer saw that he couldn't proceed with the trial, 
and he remarked that he rested his case right there. 

" What business have you to arrest the case ?" demanded 
his Honor, but the lawyer put on his hat and left the house. 

The attorney for the defense, warned by the sad expe- 
rience of his opponent, made his appeal directly to the 
Court, saying: 

" Judge, you don't believe my client stole that rifle. 
You can't " 

" How do you know I don't believe he stole it !" inter- 
rupted the Court. " Confine yourself to the case." 

" I demand his discharge, on the ground that the com- 
plainant has failed to make out a case," said the lawyer, 
after a moment's thought. 

" Well, he won't be discharged !" replied his Honor. " I 
know he stole that gun, and I fine him ten dollars and 
costs !" 



SHE KNEW HERSELF. 209 

" But this is a case for the jury to decide," protested the 
lawyer. 

" It is, eh ! perhaps the people elected you Justice instead 
of me ! Perhaps I don't know anything about law !" 

" The jury were selected to decide on the case, weren't 
they?" demanded the attorney. 

"No, sir!" 

" What for, then ?" 

" None of your business, sir ! I fine you fifteen dollars 
for contempt of court, and the prisoner has got to pay his 
fine in one hour or I'll send him to State Prison for twelve 
years !" 

That ended the case, and the attorneys weren't three 
hours picking up their traps and crossing the county line. 

N 




"TWO DOLLAR UND ZIXTY CENT!" 




J!sTE day an old man entered one of the railroad depots 
5fe£ in Detroit, and walking up to the ticket office he 
asked : 

" What you sharge for dicket to Lansing ?" 

" Two-sixty, sir," replied the agent, wetting his thumb 
and reaching out for the money. 

" Two dollar und zixty cent !" exclaimed the stranger, 
pulling his head out of the window. 

" Yes, sir, that is the regular fare." 

" Then I sthays here by Detroit forty yare !" said the 
man, getting red in the face. " I haf never seen such a 
schwindle as dot !" 

" Two-sixty is the fare, and you will have to pay it if you 
go," replied the agent. 

" I shust gif you two dollar, und no more," said the 
stranger. 

" No, can't do it." 

" Vhell, den I sthays mit Detroit till I dies !" growled 
the old man, and he went away and walked around the 
depot. He expected to be called back as he left the win- 
dow, as a man is often called back to " take it along " 
when he has been chaffing with a clothing dealer. Such an 
event did not occur, and after a few minutes the old man 
returned and called out : 

" Vhell, I gif you two dollar und ten cent." 

" No, can't do it," replied the agent. 

210 



BUT HE WENT. 211 

" Vhell, den I don't go, so help my grashus ! I haf lived 
in Detroit three yare, und I shall bay bolice tax, zewer tax, 
und want to grow up mit dis town, und I shall not be 
schwindled I" 

He walked off again, looking back to see if the agent 
would not call him, and after a stroll around he returned 
to the window, threw down some money, and said : 

" Vhell, dake two dollars und dwenty cent und gif me 
a dicket." 

" My dear sir, can't you understand that we' have a 
schedule of prices here, and that I must go by it?" replied 
the agent. 

"Vhell, den I sthays mit Detroit von tousand yare!" 
exclaimed the stranger, madder than ever. " I bays bolice 
taxes, und zewer taxes, und I shall see about dis by de 
Sheaf of Bolice !" 

He walked off again, and as he saw the locomotive back- 
ing up to couple on to the train he went back to the 
window, and said : 

" Gif me a dicket for two dollar und dirty cent, und I 
rides on de blatform !" 

" Can't do it," said the agent. 

" Vhell, den, py golly, I shpokes to you what I doze ! 
Here is dem two dollar und zixty cent, und I goes to Lan- 
sing und never comes pack ! No, zir, I shall never come 
pack, or I shall come mit der blank road ! I bays taxes by 
dem bolice, und by dem zewers, und I shall show you dat 
I shall haf noddings more to do mit dis town !" 

And he went on the train. 



JOHN CAIN. 



IpOITN' CAEN" was a quiet, unobtrusive citizen. He 
didn't long for fame and renown, and he didn't care 
two cents whether this great and glorious country was 
ruled by a one-horse Republican or a two-horse Democrat. 
He had a pew in church, gave sixteen ounces for a 
pound, and when a man looked him square in the eye, Mr. 
Cain never took a back seat. He was home at a reasonable 
hour in the evening, never took part in the discussion, " Is 
lager healthy ?" and many a* man wished his life rolled on 
as evenly and peacefully as John Cain's. But, alas ! the 
tempter came. In an evil hour John 
Cain allowed the politicians to get 
after him and to surround him. 
They said he was the strongest man 
in the county ; that he could scoop 
out of his boots any man set up in 
opposition ; that his virtues were 
many, and his faults 00000; that it 
was his duty to come out and take a 
nomination, in order that this pure 
and incorruptible form of government be maintained pure 
and incorruptible. All this and much more they told him, 
and John Cain became puffed up. It surprised him some 
to think that he had held his peaceful way along for forty 
odd years, like knot-hole in a barn door, without any one 

212 




The Tempter. 



SOAP AND SUGAR. 



213 



having discovered what a heap of a fellow he was, but he 
concluded that there was a new era in politics, and that it 
was all right. 

The politicians covered John Cain with soft soap. They 
told him that the canvass shouldn't cost him a red, and 
that he could still retire at eight o'clock every evening and 
rest assured that his interests would be properly cared for. 
It was to be a still hunt — a very quiet election, and he 
wouldn't hardly know what was going on. John Cain 
was an honest, unsuspecting idiot, and he swallowed their 
words as the confiding fish absorbs the baited hook. 

John Cain was duly nominated, and the band came out 
and serenaded him. With the band came several hundred 
electors, who filled the Cain mansion to overflowing, spit 
tobacco all over the house, ate and drank all they could 
find, broke down the gate, and went off" with three cheers 
for John Cain. 

Before the canvass was ten days old half a dozen men 
called on Cain and gently hinted to 
him that he must come down with 
the "sugar." He didn't even know 
what " sugar " was until they kindly 
explained. They wanted money to 
raise a pole, to buy beer, to get slips 
printed, and to do fifty other things 
with, all for his particular benefit, 
and he had to hand out the money. 
In the course of another week 
they drew Cain out to make a speech 
He tried to claw oft* but they told 
him that the opposing candidate would run him out of 
sight if he didn't come out, and he went out. When he 
got through speaking the crowd drank at his expense, and 
Mr. Cain was astonished at the way the liquor went down, 




'Rah for Cain! 

at a ward meeting. 



214 



SUGAR AND LIES. 



and more astonished at the way the bill footed up. He 
didn't reach home until midnight, and for the first time in 
his life he was going to bed with his boots on. His wife 
wouldn't speak to him, the hired girl left the house to save 
her character, and John Cain wished that the politicians 
had let him alone. 

More men came and crooked their fingers at him and 
whispered " sugar." They wanted money to buy some 
doubtful votes, and to hire four-horse teams, and to mail 
his slips, and he had to come down. He hesitated about 
it, but they told him that the opposing candidate felt sure 
of victory, and that acted as a spur. 

There was hardly a night that from fourteen to two 
hundred did not call on Mr. Cain to inform him as to the 
" prospects." They drank up the currant wine Mrs. Cain 
had laid by for sickness, emptied her preserve jars, and 
there wasn't a morning that she couldn't sweep out forty 
or fifty cigar stubs and a peck of mud. They all told Cain 
that he would beat the other man so far out of sight that 
it would take a carrier pigeon to find him, and he couldn't 
very well refuse to go over to the 
corner grocery and " set 'em up " 
for the boys. 

On the eve of election Mr. Cain's 
friends called for "sugar" again, 
and he had to sugar 'em. A big 
crowd called to warn him that he 
would certainly be elected, and the 
saloon bill was $28 more. Thirteen 
or fourteen men shook hands with 
his wife, a hundred or more shook hands with him, and he 
had to get up and declare that he didn't favor woman's 
rights, and that he did; that he was down on whisky, and 
yet loved it as a beverage ; that he wanted the currency 




IN THE MORNING. 215" 

inflated, and yet favored specie payments ; that he favored 
the Civil Rights bill, and yet didn't, and in his brief speech 
Mrs. Cain counted twenty-seven straight lies, besides the 
evasions. Mr. Cain wanted to hold popular views, and he 
had to be on all sides at once. 

On the day of election they dragged him from poll to 
to poll, stopping at all the saloons on the way. He had 
to make two hundred and fifty-six thousand promises, pull 
his wallet until it was as flat as a wafer, drink lager with 
some and cold water with others, and when night came he 
went home and tried to hang the hired girl, called Mrs. 
Cain his dear old rhinoceros, and fell over the cradle and 
went to sleep with his head under the stove. 

^^JV^ When Mr. Cain arose in the morning 

fr~~f j!J< fl and became sober enough to read the elec- 

(w "*% fix ^ on re t urns ne found he had scooped 'em 

vi <WL » y°u ^ as follows : 

s $nN Wfk l ^P$l /C<X^ Opposing candidate 36, 420 

^ JFFW ' W / £0& J° hn Cain 31,380 

x>di \iw 

'w^^ii^x Cain's majority (in a horn) 5,040 

^]^^*^^^ ?>^ Mr. Cain went out and sat down 
in the morning. under an apple tree in his back yard, 

and he gave himself up to reflections, and so forth. And 
through the leafless branches sighed the November winds, 
and in the house sighed Mrs. Cain, and both sighs mur- 
mured gently in his ear : 

" John Cain's a perpendicular idiot." 



IT WAS IN INDIANA. 



ffip) REMEMBER that it was a soft summer's evening, 
M£ and as I leaned over the fence the air was full of buz- 
zing flies and humming mosquitos. The deacon was 
a good man — good for a man brought up in Indiana, and 
as he took down the milk-stool he said : 

" I s'pose ye'll be at the church festival? Hist around 

there, boss !" 

I told him I would try and come, and as he sat down 
beside the cow he continued : 

" By all means. "We're planning for a so, darn ye, 

so ! As I was going to say, we're making great expecta- 
tions on so, I say ! If ye don't stop switching that tail 

around here I'll cut it off!" 

" You expect to have a good time, deacon ?" 

" Oh, I know we will. The committee on contributions 

has reported that durn ye, what ails ye, any way ! Hist 

over thar and stand still !" 

" The committee, deacon ?" 

" Yes ; the committee has reported cash collections 
amounting to why in tophet can't ye stand still !" 

" And so you have secured the funds ?" 

" Got plenty, and the committee on preparations has 

whoa, there ! If ye don't stop histin' yer feet I'll spike 
'em down !" 

" There'll be a big crowd." 

216 



STILL HISTING. 217 

" We count on it, onless it should rain. The committee 

on preparations has made prep see here ! I'll maul the 

life out o' ye 'f ye don't stop dancing around ! I'd sell 
this cow if I could !" 

" And there's to be an excursion after the festival ?" 

" Yes ; we've chartered a train of thirteen cars, and 

there you go again, you old fiend you ! Hist around now 
and stand still !" 

" Thirteen will give you plenty of room." 

" "Well, we don't want to crowd the children, and 

keep that ar' leg still or I'll maul ye with the milk-stool !" 

" At what hour will the train leave ?" 

" "We haven't quite decided yet, but I guess at about 

now I icill maul ye ! There, take that ! and that ! and 
that!" 

After two or three minutes he settled down on the stool 
again, and I asked : 

" Have you selected the grove ?" 

" Well, we've about decided on Baker's, but histin' 

them ar' feet again ! Hev I got to maul the horns oft"'n 
ye?" 

" He wants pay, does he ?" 

" !No — not any money, but Baker don't seem to thai- 
goes that dum tail again ! and them hoofs keep a raisin' !" 

" "Who are the main committee ?" 

" Well, thar's mean Johnson and dancin' around 

again! If ye don't stand still I'll git up 'n pound ye all to 
pieces !" 

" I suppose Durney is on ?" 

" Yaas ; there's mean Johnson, and Durney, and now 

by gum 'f I don't wollop ye! How's that! and that! 
and !" 

The cow disappeared over the hill, the deacon in full 
chase, and I took the dusty highway again. 



HIS EARLY LOVES. 



JH ! Fm not so old but that I remember Kitty Glenn, 
my first love. We sat in school together, and the 
morning I showed her my sore thumb, and she wept with 
me, was the morning love was first developed in my heart. 
I suddenly discovered that the little tangle-haired, freckled- 
nose child was the handsomest girl in school, and at noon 
we traded slices of bread and butter, took alternate bites 




Early Love. 



from my piece of pumpkin pie, and I made up my mind 
to marry her. I tried to get a chance to propose to her as 
we walked home from school, but her big sister was along 
and I dared not speak. 

218 



HE IS ACCEPTED. 219 

That night I licked my brother Ben for calling Kitty's 
father " Old Glenn ;" and I got so worried and anxious that 
mother — bless her gray hairs! — came up stairs, put her 
hand on my head and declared her belief that I ought to 
have some horse-raddish drafts on my feet. 

It seemed as if morning would never come, but it finally 
did, and I was at the school-house half an hour before any 
one else. I had it all planned out, and as soon as Kitty 
arrived I beckoned her one side, presented her with three 
buckeyes and a seek-no-further apple, and said : 
" Kitty, I think I will marry you !" 
" I wish you would !" she replied, as she untied my 
comforter. 

" Well, all right. You musn't let Burt Turner carry 
your dinner-basket any more, and you musn't let Bob 
Haynes draw you on his sled." 

" I'll ask mother this very night if she won't let us keep 
house in the woodshed!" exclaimed my betrothed, and a 
' — r^S i-^ ^HZIl^ f i ^sT 1 ^ -: great burden was rolled off 
^-iSS^'&t sM^^ . J ?^——--^ .. my mind. I'd been won- 
g ^=Z^^^r-:— ^-jfl j ^j dering whether we should 

^^^"j^^y^t^^^^g^^^S board or keep house. 
i=^^f |e 1 1 i^ liij|IffiP £|^JBg%^, Ah! wasn't I happy for 
v«=Jiw "^^^^llraL two weeks ! 1 lived in a 
i t\liMli'7r^^l Wir^k: sort of Heaven by mvsclf, 
W K ^~~-^- sBt / :U1( 1 my dreams were worth 

iil^ap'^^^^i^^i^r--, five thousand dollars per 
^ Z&SSSEs- m \^ ut - Then Kitty and I 
^m^^^lJyvT^f^' ' " fell out. Her mother gave 
ra^f^P^P^ :> > ^S.'} ' her a spanking when she 
'"'-'' : " : " / learned that she was " en- 

A Kneed Supplied, i ,, i ,1 i 

gaged, and mother drew 
me over her knee, reached for the press-board, and mildly 
remarked that I had needed a hammering for many days 



220 FALLS OUT, AND LOVES AGAIN. 

past. In another week more I could hear the boys speak 
of my " late darling " as " tow-headed tom-boy " and never 
feel a ripple of indignation. 

I loved again when I had arrived at the age of ten. It 
was not a sudden love, coming upon me like a man slip- 
ping down, but it was budding for weeks and weeks before 
it finally blossomed. It was a woman this time — an old 
maid called Aunt Jane. She gave me five cents to chase 
a cow out of the lot, paid me for going to the store after a 
fine comb ; kissed me for taking a letter to the post-office, 
and my admiration grew day by day. 

One evening, when I heard mother saying that Aunt 
Jane was good-hearted, and deserved a good husband, my 
pent-up love frothed up like soap-suds. I resolved to marry 
Aunt Jane forthwith, and to love and cherish her to the 
last ditch. 

I had another restless night, principally because I could 
not decide whether we should be married by a Methodist 
or a Baptist minister, and whether we'd have a regular 
door-bell to our house or a gong which turned by a silver- 
plated handle. 

I remember with what confidence I entered the neigh- 
bor's house wherein Aunt Jane was employed to do house- 
work. I found her in the kitchen, passing some slices of 
fat-pork to the hot spider, and I thought I had never seen 
her look so lovely. I walked straight over to her, threw 
my arms around her neck, and said : 

" Aunt Jane, I want to marry you !" 

" Sakes to stars I" she exclaimed, holding the last piece 
of pork poised on the fork. 

" I love you, and I'll marry you to-day !" I went on. 

She put down the meat, gently slid out of my arms, and 
placing her hand on my head she solemnly said : 

" My dear boy, I'm old enough to be your mother ! You 
mustn't think of getting married for fifteen years yet!" 



THIRD TIME AND OUT. 



221 



I rushed out of the house, eyes full of tears, and I went 
down to the creek, fell upon the grass, and wept long and 
bitterly over my great sorrow. I made a solemn vow never 
to marry any one as long «s?C£S»**- -% - 



as I lived, but four weeks 
after that I was in love 
with a girl in a dollar 
store. 

Ah ! well, I suppose all 




men can look back and call up just such recollections of 
long ago, and yet we cannot smile over them — there are 
too many graves between us and childhood. 



HE SAID "CUSS/ 




ANY people noticed him as he sat 
on the curb-stone at the corner, 
head in his hands. He wore a 
coat of wolf-skins, a bearskin 
cap, buckskin breeches, and his 
grizzly hair hung down on his 
shoulders in a tangled mass. 
He had drifted east from the wild frontier, and he had 
fallen sick. No one knew for a long time what ailed him, 
as he would not reply to questions, but finally, when a 
policeman shook his arm and repeated the inquiry, the man 
slowly lifted his head and replied : 
"I'm played!" 

His face was pale and haggard, and it was plain that he 
was going to have an attack of fever. He was sent to the 
hospital for treatment, he making no inquiries and answer- 
ing no questions. He had his personal effects in a sort of 
sack. There was a breech-loading rifle, a hatchet, a knife 
and several other articles, and when he had been laid on a 
bed in one of the wards he insisted that the sack be placed 
under his head. They offered him medicine, but he turned 
away his face, and no argument could induce him to swal- 
low any. 

ooo 



NOTHING BUT " CUSS." 223 

" But you are a sick man," said the doctor, as he held the 
medicine up. 

" Cuss sickness !" replied the old man. 

" But you may die !" 

" Cuss death I" 

He grew worse as the days went by, and was sometimes 
out of his head and talking strange talk of Indian fights 
and builalo-hunts, but not once did he speak of family, 
friends or of himself. He would not let them undress 
him, comb his hair or show him any attention beyond 
leaving his food on the stand. A raging fever was burn- 
ing up his system, and when the doctors found that the 
old man would not take their medicines they knew that 
death was only a matter of days. 

He must have had an iron constitution and a heart like 
a warrior, for he held Death at arm's length for many days. 
When it was seen that he could last but a few hours longer 
the nurse asked him if a clergyman should be called. 

" Cuss clergymen !" replied the old man, those being the 
first words he had spoken for three days. 

However, two hours after, his mind wandered, and he 
sat up in bed and called out : 

" I tell ye, the Lord isn't goin' to be hard on a feller who 
has fit Injuns !" 

He was quiet again until an hour before his death, when 
the nurse made one more effort, and asked : 

" Will you give me your name ?" 

" Cuss my name !" replied the old man. 

" Haven't you any friends ?" 

" Cuss friends !" 

" Do you wish us to send your things to any one V* 

" Cuss any one!" 

" Do you realize," continued the nurse, " that you arc 
very near the grave ?" 



224 wasn't it strange? 

* Cuss the grave ?" was the monotonous reply. 

No further questions were asked, and during the next 
hour the strange old man dropped quietly asleep in death, 
uttering no word and making no sign. When they came 
to remove the clothing and prepare the body for the grave, 
what do you suppose they found carefully wrapped in oil- 
skin and lying on his breast ? A daguerreotype picture of 
a little girl ! It was taken years and years ago, and when 
the child was live or six years old. The face of the little 
one was fair to look upon, and the case which held it had 
been scarred by bullets. There were a dozen scars on the 
old man's body to prove that he had lived a wild life, but 
there was not a line among his effects to reveal his name 
or the name of the child whose picture he had worn on 
his breast for years and years. Who was she ? His own 
darling, perhaps. He would not have treasured the picture 
so carefully unless there was love in his heart. 

No one would believe that the wolf-skin coat covered a 
heart which could feel love or tenderness, but it did. He 
might have been returning home after years of weary wan- 
dering, or he might have left the frontier to be sure of a 
christian burial and hoping that no unsympathetic eye 
would fall upon the picture. 

Some said keep it, hoping to make it identify the old 
man, but others laid it back on the battle-scarred breast 
which had preserved it so long, and it was there when they 
buried him. 



IN THE CHIMNEY CORNER. 



SAT and watched him as he softly rocked to and fro. 
It was an old-fashioned fire-place, and he was rocking 
in an old-fashioned splint-bottomed chair, which was 
likewise a veteran in years. 

There was something so good, so kind and tender in his 
face that I could not turn my eyes away. His hair was 
white as snow, his eyes weak, and the hand resting on the 
arm of the chair trembled with the helplessness of age. 

The logs burned brightly on the andirons, and as the old 
man sat and gazed into the flame, he must have compared 
his life to it. It rose and fell, wavered and struggled to 
climb up, fell back and rose again, just as men struggle 
against fate. There were charred brands to remind him 
of crushed hopes — ashes to make him remember his dead. 
I saw his face brighten at times, and then again it was 
covered with a shade of sadness, and the hand shook a 
little faster as he remembered the graves on the hill-side 
and those who had slept in them for so many long years. 

By and by the flames fell, and the old room was filled 
with shadows, which ran over the floor, climbed the walls 
and raced along the ceiling. Sometimes they covered the 
old man's face, but leaped away again, as if fearing rebuke. 
Sometimes they drew together in a corner and whispered 
to each other, and the fall of an ember would send them 
dancing around. 

o 225 



226 IN HEAVEN. 

I was but a child, and the shadows made me afraid. I 
wished the old man would lift his eyes and speak to me, 
telling me his life's story, but he kept his gaze on the burn- 
ing logs as if they were a magnet to draw him closer and 
closer. I watched the shadows until I fell asleep. Strange, 
sweet music came to my ears, and the shadows were 
replaced by a golden light and a sky so blue and pure that 
I tried to reach up and grasp it. Soft voices chanted in 
harmony with the music, and by and by I saw an angel 
leading an old man and helping him over the rugged path 
which stretched out before me until it touched the golden 
gates of Heaven. They went on and on, and when they 
were lost to view I suddenly awoke. 

The fire had burned still lower, and there were more 
shadows in the room ; the old man sat there yet, but the 
chair no longer moved, and his hand had ceased to trem- 
ble. I crept softly over to him and laid my hand on his. 
It was cold. I shook him gently, but he did not answer. 

The old man was dead ! While I slept the shadows had 
brought an angel to lead him into Heaven. 




CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS MCPHERSON. 



tHIS boy was a good boy. He would have been an 
angel to-day but for the deceit of this false-hearted 
world. He wasn't one of a lot of triplets, and therefore 
didn't have honors showered down upon him in his early 
days, but old women said there was foundation there for 
an orator, a great general or a philosopher, and old men 
examined his head and said it was level. Nothing particu- 
lar happened to Christopher Columbus until the eighth 
year of his reign. His childhood days were full of mud- 
pies, the butt-ends of shingles, paregoric, castor oil, and 
old straw hats with the front brim worn off. He was a 
deep thinker and a close observer for a small boy, and he 
was just innocent enough to believe things which other 
boys pitch out of the window without a second thought. 

When Christopher was going on nine years old he heard 
some one say that a " penny saved was two pence earned." 
He therefore laid a big bungtown away in a crack under 
the mop-board, and every day he looked to see it grow to 
two cents. He had confidence and patience, but at length 
both gave way. Then he got the cent out one day, and 
Mrs. Norton's baby swallowed it, and that was the last of 
that bungtown. The youthful Christopher didn't believe 
in maxims quite as much as before, but he hadn't cut all 
his eye-teeth yet. 

When the boy was a year older he heard it said that 
" truth was mighty and must prevail," and that a boy who 

227 



228 TRUTH AND HONESTY NOWHERE. 

always spoke the truth would surely make a great and 
good man. He commenced to tell the truth. One day he 
got his father's best razor out and hacked it on a stone, and 
when the old gent came home and asked who in blazes had 
done that, Christopher Columbus spoke up and said : 

" It was I, father — I notched your old razor." 

" You did, eh ?" sneered the old man, as he looked up 
into a peach-tree ; " well I'll fix you so you won't never 
notch another razor for me !" 

And he cut a budding limb and dressed that boy dowm 
until the youth saw stars. That night Christopher Colum- 
bus determined never to tell the truth again unless by 
accident, and all through life he stuck to the resolution. 

When the lad was about twelve years old he read in a 
little book that " honesty was the best policy." He didn't 
more than half believe it, but he thought he'd try. He 
went to being honest. One day his mother sent him to the 
grocery to buy eggs, and Bill Jones induced him to squan- 
der the change in the purchase of soda-water. "When he 
got home his mother asked him for the little balance, and 
Christopher explained. 

" Spent it for soda, eh ?" she replied. " Here your poor 
old mother is working like a slave, and you are around 
swilling down soda water- w r ater ! I don't think you'll swill 
any more, I don't. Come over my right knee." 

And she agitated him in the liveliest manner. That 
night as he turned on his downy straw-bed the boy made 
up his mind that honesty didn't pay, and he resolved to 
cheat the whole world if he could. 

When Christopher was half a year older he came across 
the injunction " Be kind to the poor." He did not know 
whether it would pay or not, but he set about it. He knew 
of a poor woman who sadly needed a spring bonnet, and 
he took over his mother's, along with a few other things, 



FINALLY HUNG HIM. 229 

including his father's second pair of boots, his own Sunday 
shoes, and so on. He went around feeling very big-hearted 
until the old gent wanted to go to the lodge one night, and 
then it came out. 

" Gin away my boots, eh ?" inquired the father ; " lugged 
your mother's best bonnet off, eh ? "Well, I don't think 
you'll remember the poor very much after to-night!" 

And he pounded Christopher Columbus with a pump- 
handle until the boy fainted away, and even then didn't 
feel as though he had made a thorough job of it. 

They fooled this boy once more. He heard a rich man 
say that everybody " should make hay while the sun 
shone." So when there came a sunny day he went out, 
took his father's scythe down from the plum-tree and went 
to making hay. He broke the scythe, cut down the tulips 
and hacked his sister in the heel, and his mother came out 
and led him around by the hair, and bounced him until he 
almost went into a decline. They couldn't bamboozle this 
boy after that. He grew wicked every day of his life, and 
before his eighteenth birthday arrived he was hung for 
murder. He said he didn't care a huckleberry about it, 
and died without making the usual Fourth of July oration. 



THE SOLEMN BOOK AGENT. 




! ! E was tall and solemn, and dignified. 
One would have thought him a 
Roman Senator, on his way to 
make a speech on finance; but 
he wasn't — singularly enough, he 
wasn't. He was a book agent. 
He wore a linen duster, and his 
brow was furrowed with many 
care-lines, as if he had been 
obliged to tumble out of bed every other night of his life 
to dose a sick child. He called into a tailor-shop, removed 
his hat, took his "Lives of Eminent Philosophers from its 
cambric bag, and approached the tailor with : 
" I'd like to have you look at this rare work." 
" I haf no time," replied the tailor. 

" It is a work which every thinking man should like to 
peruse," continued the agent. 
" Zo ?" said the tailor. 

" Yes, it is a work on which a great deal of deep thought 
has been expended, and it is pronounced by such men as 
"Wendell Phillips to be a work without a rival in modern 
literature." 

" Makes anybody laf when he zees it?" asked the tailor. 

230 



NOT A RECEIPT BOOK. 



231 



" No, my friend, this is a deep, profound work, as I have, 
already said. It deals with such characters as Theocritus,, 
Socrates, and Plato, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. If you 
desire a work on which the most eminent author of our 
day has spent years of study and research, you can find 
nothing to compare with this." 

" Does it shpeak about how to glean gloze ?" anxiously 
asked the man of the goose. 

"My friend, this is no receipt book, but an eminent 
work on philosophy, as I have told you. Years were con- 
sumed in preparing this volume for the press, and none 
but the clearest mind could have grasped the subject herein 
discussed. If you desire food for deep meditation you 
have it here." 

" Does dis pook zay zum- 
ding apout der Brussian 
war?" asked the tailor as 
he threaded his needle. 

" My friend, this is not 
an everyday book, but a 
work on philosophy — a 
work which will soon be 
in the hands of every pro- 
found thinker in the coun- 
try. What is the art of 
philosophy? This book 
tells you. "Who were and 
who are our philosophers ? 
Turn to these pages for a 
reply. As I said before, I don't see how you can do with- 
out it." 

"Und he don't haf anydings apout some fun, eh?" 
inquired the tailor as the book was held out to him. 

" My friend, must I again inform you that this is not an 




232 " ROUSE MIT HIM !" 

ephemeral work — not a collection of nauseous trash, but a 
rare, deep work on philosophy. Here, see the name of the 
author. That name alone, sir, should be proof enough to 
your mind that the work cannot be surpassed for pro- 
fundity of thought. Why, sir, Gerrit Smith testifies to the 
greatness of this volume !" 

" I not knows Mr. Schmidt — I make no gloze mit him," 
returned the tailor in a doubting voice. 

" Then you will let me leave your place without having 
secured your name to this volume ! I cannot believe it ! 
Behold what research ! Turn these leaves and see these 
gems of richest thought ! Ah ! if we only had such minds 
and could wield such a pen ! But we can read, and in a 
measure we can be like him. Every family should have 
this noble work. Let me put your name down ; the book 
is only twelve dollars." 

" Zwelve dollar for der pook ! Zwelve dollar ! und he 
has noddings apout der war, und no fun in him, or zay 
noddings how to glean gloze ! What you clake me for, 
mister ? Go right away mit dat pook, or I call der bolice 
und haf you locked up pooty quick !" 



AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 




DON'T remember," said Bijah, as the reporters 
came in, " whether Shakespeare, Susan B. Anthony 
or Ben Butler wrote it, but it's a very affecting song, and 
lately it has been running in my ears half the time. I'll 
sing a verse : 

'His name it was Jack, 
His father drove hack, 
Plain sewing his mother did do; 
And a brother of his 
In position had riz 
To sweep out an office or two.'" 

The old janitor was proceeding with the next verse, when 

his Honor came 
in and squelched 
him — said that a 
couple of cats had 
kept him awake 
half the night, 
and he didn't care 
about finishing 

The Cats. off with the UOtCS 

of a horse-fiddle or a tin-pan serenade. 
JOSEPH BRACEWELL 

Was the first candidate out, TTis name was well braced, 
but his character wasn't. lie had been loafing around for 

283 




234 UP AND OUT. 

a week or two on the ragged edge of despair, sleeping on 
a soft pair of stairs ordn a dry goods box, and although 
the prospect of ever having a dollar in his pocket, or of 
securing a square meal, was as uncertain as keeping a 
boarding-house in Chicago, he didn't want the police to 
disturb him. 

" You'd better go up," remarked his Honor, after hear- 
ing the prisoner's story. 

" Oh ! lemme go this time !" 

" ]STo — can't do it. "What would be said of me if it was 
known that I encouraged vagrancy ?" 

" But I'll go into the country." 

" The country doesn't sigh for thee, Mr. Bracewell." 

" Then I'll go to Canada." 

" You'd become a frozen statue in less'n two hours over 
there. ISTo, Mr. Bracewell, I shall have to make it sixty 
days. That will let you out in March, just when the 
solidity of winter is giving way to the mush of spring, and 
even if you can't strike a job then, the nights won't be so 
cold." 

LAST TIME. 

Mary Ann McClellan wiped a tear away and choked 
back a sob as she admitted the charge of drunkenness, but 
she protested that intoxication came from some brandy 
which she was using to cure toothache. She was very 
penitent, and if his Honor would only let her go this time 
her teeth might all jump out of her head before she would 
resort to brandy again. 

" I dunno — I dunno," mused the Court as he rubbed 
his ear. 

" Just this once !" she sighed. 

" Seems as if I might, and I guess I will. But you must 
look upon this as a hair-breadth escape. If there were not 



A FACE AT THE WINDOW. 



235 



some redeeming features in the case I'd send you where 
you wouldn't have a taste of canned peaches for six months. 
Don't have any more toothache, Mrs. McClellan. Fare- 
well, Mary Ann — you can go." 

" I'm many times obliged to you," she said as she made 
her bow, and when she got out of the door a red-nosed boy 
yelled out : 

" She's making up faces at this 'ere court !" 

It was too late to catch 
her, and Bijah called out: 

" LITTLE NELL." 

"Miss Baldwin, I be- 
lieve?" said his Honor, as 
she leaned over the railing. 

" The same," she replied, 
with a smile. 

" And you were here the 
other day on this same 
charge of drunkenness?" 

" Not I — my sister." 

"She looks like you, eh?" 

Making Up Faces. " Very much." 

" And she also gets drunk ?" 

" Once in a while." 

" Miss Baldwin, it is my solemn duty to inform you that 
you can't hoodwink this court. You've been here a dozen 
times to my knowledge, and you never had a sister. I 
knew you the moment I caught sight of those dozen 
freckles on your nose, and I'm going to put on a few extra 
days for your baseness in seeking to put up a job on me. 
The sentence is ninety days." 

" May I speak to you after the court ?" she asked. 

" You can leave any word with Bijah which you wish 




236 hum's the word. 

conveyed to me. He is trustworthy, and whatever you tell 
him will be received as a sacred secret. As soon as court 
closes I want my breakfast, and I can't tarry here. Go 
back and sit down, and you shall be conveyed to the House 
of Correction in as good style as is consistent with safety 
and comfort." 

A PROSPECTIVE REWARD. 

" Here ! Who's this ?" exclaimed the Court as Joseph 
Eldner was brought out. 

" Made a fool o' myself, as usual !" replied the farmer. 
" Got drunk, eh ?" 

" Yes ; came down to Detroit yesterday, looked around, 
got tight, and I'm busted for cash." 
" Never was here before ?" 

"No — never saw your darned old town before in my 
life !" 

" And you live — where ?" 
" "Way up in the woods." 
" Can you get home ?" 
" Hum's the word with me." 
" Well, you want to be more care- 
ful in the future. It's a wonder some 
one didn't roll you into the river. I 
guess I'll let you go this time." 
" You will ?" 
" Yes, you may go." 
" Bully for you, pard !" exclaimed 
the man, extending his claw for a 
^S shake. " I'm agoing straight hum ! 
-^=== 1^ I can walk it in two days, and I'll tell 
off for Hum. the old woman that the cars busted 

and I lost my money ! I'll make this thing all right — I'll 
send you down a bear I" 




THOSE SAD STRAINS. 237 

He °*ot right out, and as soon as the Maria could be 
loaded up the boys joined hands, circled around the coal 
stove and sang : 

"Human nature's weak and frail, 
Every day we hear the wail — 
Every day we see 'em sail 
To the jug." 




A BRIBE. 




RAGGED, forlorn-looking 
boy was strolling around 
the Southern depot in 
Detroit one day, smok- 
ing the stub of a 
cigar and keeping 
an eye out for an 
easy job, when a philanthropist, in waiting for a train, 
handed out ten cents, and remarked : 
" Take it, bub ; I feel sorry for you." 
" No yer don't," exclaimed the boy, drawing back. 
" Why, it's a free gift — I don't ask anything for it," 
replied the man. 

"I know you," continued the boy, his eyes twinkling; 
" you want me to promise to grow up and become Presi- 
dent, and I ain't going to tie myself up for any man's ten 
cents!" 

238 



JOHN BLOSS, MINER. 



REMEMBER that the news Of his death startled me, 
though he was such an old drinker that he was never 
clear of " snakes," and the camp had been expecting 

his death for a week. 

We'd been having healthy times for months past, and 

old John's death was sufficient excuse for most of the men 




knocking off work for the day. I went up to the shanty 

where the body lay, and a dozen silver-diggers were sitting 

around the door and discussing the many virtues of the 

late deceased. 

239 



240 DECIDE ON A MONUMENT. 

The truth was, old John had been a plague to every 
camp in the diggings. He was light-fingered, a great 
loafer, a persistent beggar; and when he got the tremens it 
took half the men in camp to hold him. However, these 
faults were passed over by the crowd, and as I came up 
" Old Scraps," as they called a giant miner, was saying : 

" Poor old John ! We may loaf around this world a 
million years and never see his likes agin !" 

"That's so!" added "Beechnuts," who hailed from 
Indiana. " If there was ever a good man on this airth, it 
was old John Bloss !" 

" And I'll bet four ounces that he's flying around Heaven 
this very minute !" put in a red-headed miner from St. 
Louis. 

" He'd divide his last cracker with a man who was in 
want," said a fourth, wiping the corner of his left eye and 
carrying a long face. 

There was a short pause, and as the old man Turner 
removed his pipe and blew the smoke away, he said : 

" B'ys, I move we git up a monument for him !" 

" That strikes me !" was the general shout, and the old 
man continued : 

" I'll give an ounce or two, the rest of ye give as much, 
and we'll do the fa'r thing by the old angel. He desarves 
it. I feel now as if I could foot it clear to Boston and bring 
a twenty-foot monument home on my back !" 

The hat was passed around, and although times under 
the hill were hard, a purse of about sixty dollars was 
raised. As soon as the body had been buried the old man 
Turner pounded his head and brought fourth an obituary 
notice. He called the camp around him and read it aloud, 
but the men decided that it wasn't tender enough, and 
besides the old man had tacked on half the song of " Old 
Hundred " to finish the obituary. The task was allotted 



DESCEND ON THE FUNDS. 241 

to others, and finally the combined efforts of the entire 
camp produced the following, which passed criticism and 
was adopted : 

JOHN BLOSS, 

He Dyd hear on the 29 of Ma, Aigd 

aboute 45 yr. 

His deth hez kast a darke shadder over this campp. 

We'll never For git him. 

this stun was raised by his cumraids. 

The next thing in order was to procure the monument, 
and the evening was spent in devising ways and means of 
getting a marble shaft across the country from Chicago. 

That night " Old Chestnuts " was shot in the leg while 
trying to steal the monument fund, and when morning 
came it was discovered that Turner had run away with the 
pile. Three men pursued him, overhauled and robbed 
him, and then struck out for other diggings, and " Taller 
Candle Valley " never heard anything further about the 
John Bloss monument fund, except now and then as a 
miner rested on his pick-handle and declared that he'd 
like to give old John Bloss one good kick — -just one. 
p 



SHE WAS A MOTHERLY OLD LADY. 



HE got aboard the train at the next station, and she 
came along down the car until she saw me, and down 
she sat in the unoccupied half of my seat. I was rather 
glad of it, for she was a motherly-looking old lady, and 
she didn't have a car-load of baggage. All she had was a 
hand-trunk, three bundles, something in a pillow-slip, an 
umbrella, something tied up in a towel, a bag of some- 
thing else, and two or three more bundles. 

" There's them doughnuts for Peter's children," she said 
as she stacked up the bundles, " and them's chestnuts for 
Sarah's young 'uns ; and them's herbs for the colic — dried 
beef for lunch on the way — carpet rags for Melissa — dried 
apples enough to go around — some o' them dried plums 

for sickness " 

And finally she had them all before her. She counted 
up on her fingers, nodded her head, and sat back and 
looked at me through her spectacles. Finally she inquired: 
" Haint you Mr. Johnson ?" 
I replied that I was not. 
" I thought sure you was him, but 
now I see you haint," she went on, 
" though I'll leave it to forty if you don't 
have a Johnson look, 'cept the hair. 
not joh^onT None of the Johnsons have red hair." 
" No, my name is George "Washington," I replied. 

242 







THE TRUTH COMES OUT. 



243 



""Washington? Washington? Any relation to them 
Washingtons in Medina ?" 

"Not as I know of." 

" Well, seems as if I had seen you afore, but I can't 
place you. Going fur ?" 

" Yes." 

" Been away somewhere ?" 

"Yes." 

" Folks expect you home ?" 

" No — haven't any home ; I'm an orphan." 

" Dear me ! but I can feel for you if that's the case ! 
Who brung you up ?" 

" No one in particular. At the tender age of nine years 
T went to sea." 

" To see who ?" 

" To sea — to sail upon the ocean. I went with a pirate." 

"Oh! ha!" 

" Yes, I became a pirate, and for years I helped to burn, 

kill and plunder. I 

I 



became a monster, 
and it was one con- 
tinual feast of blood 
for ten long years !" 
" But you've re- 
formed, haven't you," 
she asked, moving off 
| a little and reaching 
fj out for her bundles. 
^ " Yes, I am now as 

innocent as a child — 
as you are." 
" Got religion at camp-meeting, I s'pose ?" 
"Yes." 
" Well, them camp-meetings is powerful things. There 




As a Pirate. 



244 SHE CHANGES OVER. 

was Abe Skinner — you probably didn't know him — lie got 
converted at camp-meeting, and they say he's like a lamb 
now." 

She looked at me for awhile without speaking, and then 
inquired : 

" Did you kill many babies when you were in the pirate 
business ?" 

" No, we always spared innocent children. There was 
one pirate who didn't do anything else but fill their nursing 
bottles and dose 'em with paregoric when they had wind 
colic." 

" La ! now, but there was some good streaks about 'em !" 
she said. " And what did you do with the old women ?" 

" We used to saw 'em in two with a cross-cut saw, and 
use the pieces for hash !" 

" Grashus ! but how monsterous !" she whispered as she 
folded her arms and leaned back. 

She pondered over the case several minutes, and then 
remarked : 

" But you've reformed ?" 

" Yes, I have undergone an entire change of heart and 
appetite. There was a time when I could have roasted 
and eaten you for dinner, but now the smell of baked old 
woman gives me the heart-burn." 

She drew off a little further and asked : 

" And what are you going to do now ?" 

" My present business is buying dead bodies and ship- 
ping them to Australia, where they are used as fence-posts 
and door-steps. I buy a body whenever I can secure it at 
a fair price, but when I can't I steal it !" 

" Excuse me !" she suddenly remarked, " but I guess I'll 
change over to the other seat !" 

She made the change, but during the entire ride she 
kept an eye on me, and once I saw her shiver as she 



she'll ne'er forget. 245 

thought of an old woman being sawed up. Her friends 
were at the depot to meet her, and as she got off the steps 
I heard her say : 

" Howdy, Sarah — and how's Melindy — and you'd better 
look out, for there's a body-snatcher on this keer — and 
how's George — and he's got red hair and used to eat 
women — and how's Sarah's health — and he's been a roav- 
ing pirate, and " 

But the train moved on. 




WHAT A CHILD SAW. 



""^TESTERDAY morning some people living in a dark 
r£j street entered a house to find father and mother 
beastly drunk on the floor, and their child, a boy four years 
old, dead in his cradle. The parents looked like beasts — 
the child wore the sweetest, tenderest smile on its white 
face that any of them ever saw. It had been ailing for 
days, and its brief life had been full of bitter woe, but yet 
the women cried as they bent over the old cradle and 
kissed its cold cheeks and felt its icy hands. 

Father and mother lay down at dark the evening before, 
and people passing by heard the child crying and wailing. 
It was too weak to crawl out of the cradle, and its voice 
was not strong enough to break the chains of drunken 
stupor. When the sun went down and the evening shad- 
ows danced across the floor and seemed to grasp at him 
the boy grew afraid and cried out. The shadows came 
faster, and as they raced around the room and scowled 
darkly at the lone child he nestled down and drew the 
ragged blanket over his head to keep the revengeful shad- 
ows from seizing him. He must have thought his parents 
dead, and how still the house seemed to him ! 

" It's dark, mother — it's dark !" the neighbors heard him 
wail ; but no one went in to comfort him and to drive the 
shadows away. The night grew older — the feet of pedes- 
trians ceased to echo, and the heavy breathing of the 

246 



"I AM thy mother!" 247 

drunkards made the child tremble and draw the cover still 
closer. His little bare feet were curled up, and he shut 
his eyes tightly to keep from seeing the black darkness. 

By and by the ragged blanket was gently pulled away, 
and the child opened his eyes and saw a great light in the 
room. 

" Is it morning ?" he whispered, but the drunkards on 
the floor still slept. 

Sweet, tender music came to the child's ears, and the 
light had driven every shadow away. He was no longer 
afraid. The aches and pains he had suffered for days past 
went away all at once. 

" Mother ! mother ! hear the music !" he cried, and from 
out of the soft, white light, came an angel. 

" I am thy mother !" she softly said. 

He was not afraid. He had never seen her before, but 
she looked so good and beautiful that he held up his wasted 
hands and said : 

" I will go with you — I will be your child !" 

The music grew yet softer, and the melody was so sad and 
tender, and yet so full of love and rejoicing, that the drunk- 
ards on the floor moved a little and muttered broken words. 

Other angels came, and the light fell upon the boy's face 
in a blazing shower, turning his curls to threads of gold. 
He held up his arms and laughed for joy. 

" Heaven wants you !" the angel whispered. " Earth 
has no more sorrow — no further misery. Come !" 

And he floated away with them, leaving the sleepers 
lying as if dead. The golden light faded out, the music 
died away, and the old house was again filled with the 
grim, threatening shadows, which sat around the sleepers 
and touched their bloated faces with gaunt skeleton 
fingers, and laughed horribly when the drunkards groaned 
in uneasy slumber. 



248 



NO ONE COULD TELL. 



When people came in the shadows went out. The 
sleepers still slept their sodden sleep, and no one minded 
them. Men and women bent low over the dead child, 
smoothed back his curls and whispered : 

" Poor dead boy !" 

Who could know that he had seen the angels, and that 
they had borne him to Heaven's gate ? 




OLD FRISKET. 



jjUj^N" central Michigan, many years ago, an old bachelor 
TIC who may be spoken of here as Frisket, because he 
has long been dead, published a small paper called 
the Herald. There was only a small amount of job-work, 
Frisket didn't write to exceed a column per week, and the 
office force consisted of himself and a white-headed boy 
about twelve years old, who swept out, " rolled " the forms, 

and made himself 
so generally useful 
that he received 
seventy-five cents 
per week for his 
services. 

Frisket was good- 
natured, lazy, liked 
whisky, and he ful- 
ly realized the fact 
that the Herald had 
a very slim chance 
of winning a nation- 
al reputation under 
his editorial man- 
offick force. agement. It had a 

circulation of two hundred or such a figure, subscribers 
paid in wood, potatoes, sheep-pelts, store orders, and 

249 




250 



A PUT UP JOB. 



promises, and Frisket was as contented as the editor of 
the London Times. 

There were half a dozen young "jours" working in a town 
a dozen miles away, and as they all knew Frisket, and knew 
that he would get drunk whenever opportunity offered, they 
put up a job on him. His paper was issued Mondays, and 
he worked off the first side, or the first and fourth pages, 
Saturday. Sunday morning the "jours" chartered a wagon 




and rode over to Frisket's town. He 
was in the office, getting up a few 
local items, and he sat down and made 
them feel at home. It wasn't forty minutes before he was so 
drunk that they laid him down in one corner of the office 
with the knowledge that he would sleep until the next day. 
Then, lowering the curtains and locking the door, they 
took off their coats and went to work getting up his local.. 
The following are samples of the local news they rushed up : 
" Beware of Him ! — The President of the village is a 
thief, liar, rascal and dead-beat generally. Respectable 
men should beware of associating with him !" 



STARTLING LOCAL NEWS. 251 

" New Sign. — "We notice that Miss Foster, the dress- 
maker on Main street, has a new sign. She'd better get a 
new set of teeth, stop winking at John Green, the hard- 
ware man, and pay her cigar bills !" 

"A Fraud. — Pettigrcw Brown, the proprietor of the 
Red Front dry goods store, would as soon cheat a blind 
man as to wink. He came to tfeis town fresh from State 
Prison, and is a convicted grave-robber and hog-stealer !" 

" Avoid Him ! — Harrison, the photographer, went home 
drunk the other night, threw his child on the red-hot stove, 
smashed up the furniture, turned his wife out doors, and 
would now be in jail but for the corruption of constable 
Bell and Justice Swan. These officials ought to be 
impeached at once. We have it on good authority that 
they are the scoundrels who have been stealing wool from 
the farmers in this county." 

In the course of the forenoon they set up twenty-one such 
items, raking almost every prominent man in the village 
and county. There was only enough type left for one 
more article, and they used it to get oft* the following 
wind-up : 

" This Town. — This towm is situated on Carrion Creek, 
and its inhabitants may be classed under the following 
heads, viz : Catfish, gamblers, thieves, incendiaries, fools, 
lunatics, suckers, whales, sharks, dead-beats and jackasses. 
The principal business of the said inhabitants is whittling 
shingles, chewing gum and hunting coons. There isn't an 
honest man or a good-looking female in the town. It is 
the home of the seven-year itch and the birth-place of 
Benedict Arnold. No honest man can live here fifteen 
minutes, and a spotted dog couldn't pick up a full meal 
here in three weeks. The only decent man in the village 
is Mr. Frisket, the genial and whole-souled editor of this 



252 WAS CALLED TO GO. 

paper, who is going to get out of town as soon as he can 
raise money." 

They locked up the forms, took turns at working the 
press, and by two o'clock had the edition off, mailed and 
ready to go to the post-office. Then they roused the old 
man, gave him another drink, and were getting ready to 
go when the tow-headed apprentice came around. He was 
much surprised, but one of the "jours" gave him half a 
dollar, told him that the old man must be allowed to sleep, 
and that the papers should go to the post-office early next 
morning, and the delighted boy skipped away as happy as 
an angel. 

Just how Frisket got out of it they never knew. He was 
still asleep next day when an indignant crowd broke in 
the door and rushed him out where all could have a chance 
to kick him. He got away by leaping off a bank and 
swimming a creek, while the " associate editor " hid in the 
woods and heard the office being gutted. About eleven 
o'clock that night Frisket was met on the highway, seven 
or eight miles from his town. He was barefooted and bare- 
headed, had his coat on his arm, was eating a raw turnip 
for lunch, and when saluted he replied : 

" My name isn't Frisket — it's Jones, and I'm looking 
land ! How far is it to Baltimore ?" 



"R-AGS!" "R-AGS! 1 



KlTST as the rays of the rising sun gilded the rosy 
morn, and the lark brushed the dew from his brown 
feathers and trilled a joyous lay, the voice rose from the 
walk and penetrated the ears of every sleeper for a block 
around. It was not a voice crying " Excelsior !" or a voice 
raised in adulation of the beauties of a joyous morning. 
It was a plaintive voice, and there was a quaver to it as it 
called out : 

" R-ags !" 

When the great bell struck the hour of noon, and the 
busy streets were deserted by all save a slowly meandering 
policeman or two, and an occasional lad hurrying along 
with a dinner-pail in his hand, a plaintive voice sounded 
alone: the streets and echoed and reverberated in the stair- 
ways. It was not the voice of a good man admonishing 
people to turn from the error of their ways. It was 
not the chant of the auctioneer, giving " third and last 
call," nor was it the monotonous, musical slang of the man 
who sells a set of gold jewelry for the paltry sum of twenty- 
five cents. It was a voice crying : 

" R-ags !" 

When the golden sun dipped behind the horizon, and 
the evening shadows chased each other across his face 
and wavered and quivered above Time's grave, there came 

253 



254 



MORE RAGS. 



rising on the quiet evening air a long-drawn wail. It 
was not the cry of a child in pain. It was not the sad sob 
of a loving wife as she bent over the cold and lifeless form 
of a kind husband. It rose with the shadows, sounding 
through halls, and crept into chambers. It was that same 
cry — that same 
" R-ags !" 




"THE MOTHER'S* FRIEND." 



OME five or six years ago Mr. Gregory, of the Roch- 
ester Chronicle, invented what he called " Gregory's 
Eureka Spanker," being an invention calculated to lessen 
the labor of fathers and mothers in enforcing family dis- 
cipline. The principle was correct, but the machines were 
all failures, as they could not be constructed with power 
enough to answer the purpose designed. The children 
were lifted up, laid face down on a small platform, and the 
mother worked the spanking apparatus as one turns a 
coffee-mill. A series of fans were arranged to strike the 
child thirty times per minute, but owing to the lack of 
power the child was led to believe that some one was 
tickling him, and would laugh himself almost to death. 
Another bad feature of the machine was the fact that it 
took at least ten minutes to spank a child. Thus, in a 
family where there were seven or eight children, an hour 
and a half was consumed in getting around, and by the 
time the last child had been spanked the first had entirely 
forgotten that anything unusual had occurred that day. 

I am happy to inform mothers that I have brought out 
a new machine, founded on more correct principles, scien- 
tifically constructed, and warranted to do three times as 
much as I claim for it. It is called " The Mother's Friend," 

255 



256 GAZE ON THIS. 

and the fact that it fills a want long felt is shown by every 
mail. The first machine was put on trial only three months 
ago, and now I have orders from nearly every State in the 
Union, and employ two saw-mills and ninety-seven skilled 
mechanics in its manufacture. 




"The Mother's Friend. 



The following are selected at random from among several 
millions of testimonials : 



I 



" Office of the * Commercial,' 

CrNCiNKATi, O., June 20, '74. 

M. Quad — Sir — I was present last evening at a trial of 

your patent ' Friend,' and it does me good to inform you 

that it proved itself a great success. Thirty-five children 

were spanked in twenty-eight minutes by one woman, 



AND THEN ORDER ONE. 257 

without any efibrt, and each one was far better spanked 
than the stoutest mother could have done it with a boot- 
jack. The Commercial will stand by you in this section. 

Very truly, 

M. HALSTEAD." 

And the following is from New York: 

" M. Quad — Dear Sir — Mrs. Bryant and myself have had 
the pleasure of attending a spanking soiree, given for the 
purpose of testing your patent apparatus. It worked so 
successfully that we are going to adopt a child and pur- 
chase a Spanker. I have seen thousands of inventions, but 
I never saw anything which could afford a family the fun 

which the ' Friend ' can. 

WM. CULLEN BRYANT." 

And the following is from Washington : 

"M. Quad — Your note of the 15th inst., asking me what 
I thought of your new invention, was duly received. In 
answer, let me say that I am delighted. It saves time, 
does its work well, runs easily, is substantially constructed, 
and if I had a family of children I'd go bare-footed all 
winter but what I'd have a Spanker. Can I secure the 
agency for the District of Columbia ? What commission 
do you allow ? I think I can sell five hundred in this city 
alone. Ever yours, 

GIDEON WELLES." 

And this is from the ex-editor of the Lapeer (Michigan) 
Democrat : 

" M. Quad — Sir — The Spanker was received last evening 
and immediately put to work, and I must say that I am 
astonished and gratified at its manner of working. Our 
children have been angels ever since passing through the 
machine. Formerly, my wife had to use up an hour's 
Q 



258 



The usual discount. 



time and half a bunch of shingles every day to spank our 

darlings, and then they weren't half attended to. JSTow, 

by the aid of your Spanker, she can do the work in five 

minutes. Draw on me for $40. 

Respectfully, 

L. D. SALE." 



Other testimonials can be seen at my office, where one 
of the Spankers is also on exhibition. The regular dis- 
count will be allowed editors and clergymen. 




* 



GETTING A PHOTOGRAPH. 




was a very pleasant spoken man — that 
photographer. He said it was a nice 
day, and that we needed a little rain, 
and that the Arkansas difficulty was a 
bad thing, and that photographs were 
two dollars per dozen — no orders hooked 
without the cash in advance. He wanted 
to know if I wanted full-length, half- 
length, bust, face, or what. I told 
him " or what," and he yanked his camera around, flung 
the big screens recklessly about, poked the sky-light cur- 
tains this way and that with a long stick, and then he 
ordered me to sit down. 

"There — that way!" he said as he jerked my body to 
the left and nearly broke my spine. 

I went that way, and he stepped back, closed the left eye 
and squinted at me. 

"A trifle more !" he said, giving me another jerk. 
Then he stepped back and closed the right eye and 
squinted again. 

" Shoulders up !" he said as he gave them a twist which 
made the blades crack. 

Then he went to the left and squinted and cried " ha !" 

259 



260 who wouldn't have bobbed? 

and went to the right and squinted and shouted " um !" and 
he came back, seized my head and jerked it up until I saw 
stars. 

" That's better !" he said, as he walked back to the camera. 

But it wasn't. He came back and told me to twist the 
right shoulder around, hump up my back, swell out my 
chest and look straight at a butterfly pinned to a corn-starch 
box, and be as pleasant as I could. 

" Capital !" he cried, as he took a squint through the 
camera, " only " 

And he rushed back, jerked my head a little higher, 
pulled my ears back, brushed up my hair, and said I'd 
better try to smile and look natural. 

" How the dev " I began, but he waved his hand, 

and said I must preserve my placid demeanor. 

" Now sit perfectly still and don't move a hair," he 
whispered, as he threw a black cloth over the brass-bound 
end of the camera, and made a sudden dive into his little 
dark den. As he rattled the glass and dashed' the acids 
about, I felt a big pain in my spine, a small pain in my 
chest, another in my neck, another in my ribs, but I said 
I'd die first, and I kept my gaze on that butterfly. 

" Ready now !" he cried, as he jumped out and put in 
the glass. My head began to bob, and the butterfly seemed 
to grow as large as a horse, and he whispered : 

"Look out — keep perfectly still !" 

I braced for a big effort, and he jerked down the cloth. 
I felt as if the fate of a nation rested on my shoulders, and 
I stuck to it. He turned away, and I heard him talking 
softly to himself. After about an hour and a half he put 
up the rag, jerked out the glass and ran into the den. He 
was out in a moment, and as he held the negative up to 
the sun, he said : 

" Ah ! you bobbed your head — have to try it again !" 



THE FIGURES. 




JHERE, my dear wife, there is the set of jewelry 
which you have so long waited for," said a 
Detroiter as he laid a package hefore his wife one evening. 

" Oh ! you dear old darling, how much did it cost!" she 
inquired as she tore off the paper. 

" Only §50," he replied, carelessly. 

"And what's this mark, '$8.50,' on the card for?" she 
asked as she held it up and looked at him with suspicion 
in her eyes. 

" That — that mark — why, that means that they paid only 
$8.50 to have the jewelry made !" he replied. " Just think, 
darling, of their grinding a poor, hard-working artisan 
down to $8.50 !" 

She was satisfied with the explanation, and he whispered 
to himself: 

" What a mule I was not to change that $8.50 to 

261 



SOME NEW VIEWS IN THE YOSEMITE. 



>T seemed to me as I stood in the mountain-locked val- 
ley and gazed upwards that Nature had reserved her 
grandest efforts for the Yosemite. A feeling of awe 
crept over me, and I could not shake it off*. Not until that 

hour had I ever 
really apprecia- 
ted the sublime 
and the grand in 
Nature. 

Moving down 
the valley I found 
"Mystery Rock." 
High up on the 
side of the moun- 
tain is a flat rock, upon whose 
surface rests several relics of the 
primeval ages, and awe and aston- 
ishment fills the mind of the tourist 
as he puts the telescope to his left 
eye and takes a good long look. A 
Professor from the East, who was 
with the party, said that the relics 
were at least ten thousand years old, 
and that if they could be secured the 
whole history of the first settlers in North America could 
be read as from a book. 

262 




'Mystery Rock.' 



THE GLADE AND THE LAKE. 



263 




Continuing on down the Valley we came upon " Lovers'' 
Glade," which is only a short distance to the right of the 
regular trail. It is one of the most romantic spots in the 
whole Valley, and I sat down on a log and rested and 

gazed and sighed for a 
full hour. The legend 
goes that two lovers 
were lost in the mount- 
ains, and after wander- 
ing around for many 
months without being 
able to find their way 
out, they at last reached 
this glade, where they 
both died. His skeleton 
is seen in the foreground, 
and her skeleton is seen 
hanging to a limb. I 
felt a great deal sadder after leaving the glade. 

Further down the Valley we came upon " Lake Vesper," 
a beautiful sheet of water imprisoned between the hills, 
ave never yet seen a painting or photograph of it, and 
often wondered how so many artists overlooked it. 
C little is^nd in the center of the lake, is another relic 
of tne primeval ages. I at first 
thought it was a barrel — a bar- 
rel of gin, or something, left 
there for the use of weary trav- 
elers, but the Professor indig- 
nantly repudiated the idea. He 
said it was an heirloom of the 
lost Aztec race, and took the spy-glass away from me. I 
lingered behind and sat down and looked and pondered, 
and such waves of awe rolled over me that one of the men, 



'Lovers' Glade.' 




264 



MEDITATION, AND SO FORTH. 



who wanted to borrow my jack-knife, came back and asked 
me three times before I knew of his presence. I think 
" Lake Vesper " one of the loveliest visions of the Valley, 
but I'd give a good deal to know whether there is anything 
good to drink in that barrel. 

Soon after dinner we came upon " Hiawatha Falls." 
Professor was so overcome with the awe and grandeur that 
he sat down on a rock and cried, and all of us were a great 
deal more or less affected. The sight was simply grand. 
The water starts from a cliff several hundred feet high, 
plashes from rock to rock and plane to 
plane with a musical roar, and finally 
reaches the Valley and glides through the 
U grass like a silver serpent. An Indian 
guide informed me that the view was not 
so inspiring from above. He had once 
ascended to the source of the Falls, and 
as near as I could make out from his 
broken words and wild gestures, the view 
was "heap cuss no good." 

The guide turned aside about an hour 
before sunset to point out a sight called 
"Meditation." In a lovely little glade, 
overshadowed by the sublime mountains 
which have been centuries building, we 
stood in a half-circle, seven of us, with 
uncovered heads, and gazed at the solemn 
and awe-inspiring picture. The Professor 
seemed more affected than any one else. 
"meditation." He stood where the red sunlight fell upon 
his classic face as it flashed down through the tree tops, 
and he held his hat in his hands, closed his eyes, and for 
three or four minutes stood there like a statue, allowing 
his mind to go back a thousand years — to the time when 




A ROW AMONG THE ANGELS. 265 

the Yosemite hills and valleys echoed the shouts of the 
lost races. A feeling of awe also crept over the rest of us, 
and it was full five minutes before any one broke the 
silence. Then the Professor put on his hat and whispered : 

" When we behold such wonders of Kature it makes 
man realize more forcibly what a small particle of dust he 
is himself — some one give me a chew of fine-cut." 

We camped that night in what is called " The Valley of 
the Angels." One fails to secure the full grandeur of the 
spot by daylight, but at night, when the light of the camp- 
fire flashes out and half illuminates the great black rocks 
and the silent dells, any man who knows enough to string 
dried apples cannot help but feel his whole frame tremble 
with the awe and mystery which a million years of time 
has wrapt around this mysterious Valley. 

We should have felt more of the sublime if the party from 
Chicago hadn't called the party from Cincinnati a liar, and 
thereby got up a fight. 




A PHILOSOPHER. 



t THINK lie was a philosopher. He wore seedy clothes ; 
he had a hungry look ; his hat was going to decay — 
everything went to show that he was a philosopher. 

He trudged down the aisle until he was near the end of 
the car, and then he dropped into a seat beside a stranger 
who was making a lunch on crackers and bologna — one of 
those small hard bolognas which assume a half-circular 
shape as they grow older. 

I was in the seat next behind, and I wondered if there 
could be anything congenial between those two men. 

The philosopher removed his hat and gently scratched 
his gray locks, and pretty soon the other man finished his 
meal, brushed the crumbs away, heaved a deep sigh and 
settled back as if to sleep. Then the philosopher suddenly 
turned and remarked : 

" This would be a sunshiny day if the sun shone." 

The other did not answer yes or no, but drew his leg up 
and rubbed his ankle, and looked suspiciously at the phil- 
osopher. There was a silence for a moment or two, and 
then the old man placed his hand on the other's shoulder 
and whispered : 

" My friend, do you know that it would always be day- 
light if it wasn't for darkness ?" 

" I pelieve dat is zo, but I never remembered of it 
pefore," replied the other, glancing out of the window and 
then back at the old man. 

266 




THE PHILOSOPHER. 



PHILOSOPHY IS GENIUS. 267 

"And do you know," continued the philosopher, "that 
if death did not overtake us, we should live right along 
for thousands of years V 

" Ish dat bossible !" exclaimed the other, turning side- 
ways on the seat to get a better view of his companion, 
and exhibiting sudden interest. 

The philosopher smoothed out the dents in his hat and 
continued : 

" If we didn't sleep we should always remain awake !" 

" Py golly, ish dat zo!" exclaimed the other, a faint 
smile crossing his face. 

" Yes, that is true ; but I presume you have never pon- 
dered on these things, have you ?" 

" Vhell, not a crate deal. I keeps a zaloon by Doledo, 
und I haf no dime to bonder. I bonders some on dat 
liquor law." 

The philosopher surveyed one of his rusty old boots, full 
of wrinkles and warped out of shape, for two or three 
minutes, and then laid his hand on the other's knee, and 
asked : 

" I presume you have never stopped to think why a 
creek or river runs down stream instead of up ?" 

" I haf never did," replied the man, in a voice betraying 
self-reproach for his great negligence. 

The philosopher closed his eyes like one weary of life, 
and the other wore an expression of sorrow and contrition 
as he realized how sadly he had neglected his duties. 

" Here you are riding on the cars," continued the old 
man, suddenly rousing, " and yet I hardly think you can 
tell me what keeps this car on the track." 

"Der wheels," replied the other. 

" But why don't this car rise up and travel in the air ?" 
queried the philosopher. 

" Pecause derc ish no drack up dere !" 



268 PHILOSOPHY IS POWER. 

" All — um !" sighed the old man, as he leaned back; "if 
I should tell you that it would always be summer if it 
wasn't for fall, spring and winter, what would you say V 

" Can dat be zo !" exclaimed the other, the smile of admi- 
ration coming back to his face. 

" There it is again," said the philosopher, extending his 
hand ; " people trudge along through the world, and can- 
not tell why they are here or what paths they travel. Now, 
sir, has it ever occurred to you that you and I would never 
want to eat if we didn't feel hungry ?" 

"No — by shiminy no!" exclaimed the other; "I haf 
never remembered of dose dings ever again in my life !" 

A look of contempt came to the old man's face, and he 
shrank away as if he could not degrade himself by longer 
association. There was something in the other's look, how- 
ever, which wrought a sudden change in his mind, and 
after a pause he continued : 

" You should think of these things. You look like an 
intelligent man ; but if I should tell you that the sun could 
never set if it did not rise, what would you say ?" 

" Vhell, vhell, gan it be bossible ?" gasped the other. 

The philosopher closed his eyes again and gently rubbed 
his knee, though there was imminent danger that he would 
rub away the thin fabric and leave the joint exposed to the 
public gaze. 

One could see that the other was blaming himself for his 
criminal negligence, and I was feeling sorry for him when 
the philosopher shook himself and went on : 

" You have eyes, ears and brains, and nature has given 
you the power to think and analyze, but I have every rea- 
son to believe that you cannot tell me why it does not keep 
right on raining for ten years when it once commences." 

" Pecause it sthops," was the blunt reply. 



BE A PHILOSOPHER. 269 

He began to smile, but a look from the old man checked 
him — a look which pictured contempt, pity and deep 
sorrow. 

" I have got to leave you now," whispered the philoso- 
pher, as the engine whistled for a station, " and I am 
grieved. You are a beast of the field, groping in dark- 
ness, and I shudder when I realize that you may live your 
allotted time and still be ignorant of the power which 
gives you life. Did it ever occur to you that if we didn't 
have any lakes, rivers or oceans, we wouldn't have any 
ships ?" 

The other opened his eyes and mouth in dumb amaze- 
ment, and could not utter a word as he watched the 
philosopher out of the door. When the train started up 
again he settled back in the seat and gasped : 

" Vhell ! vhell ! I shall never dinks of dose dings zo 
much pefore as after now !" 




TRAINING UP A BOY. 



j ILJ AYE you a boy from five to eight years old ? If so 
Ci*-> it is a matter of the greatest importance that you 
train him up right. Teach him from the start that he can't 
run across the floor, whoop, chase around the back yard 
or use up a few nails and boards to make carts or boats. 
If you let him chase around he'll wear out shoes and 
clothes, and nails and boards cost money. 

Train him to control his appetite. Give him the small- 
est piece of pie ; the bone end of the steak ; the small 
potato, and keep the butter-dish out of his reach. By 
teaching him to curb his appetite you can keep him in 
good humor. Boys are always good humored when hun- 
ger gnaws at their stomachs. If he happens to break a 
dish, thrash him for it ; that will mend the dish and teach 
him a lesson at the same time. 

If you happen to notice that your boy's shoes are wear- 
ing out, take down the rod and give him a peeling. Those 
shoes were purchased only ten months ago, and though 
you have worn out two pairs of boots during that time the 
boy has no business to be so hard on shoes. By giving 
him a sound thrashing you will prevent the shoes from 
wearing out. 

When you want your boy to go of an errand you should 
state it, and add : 

270 



SOME FURTHER ADVICE. 271 

" Now go as quick as you can, and if you are gone over 
five minutes I'll cut the hide off of your back !" 

He will recognize the necessity of haste, and he will 
hurry up. You could not do the errand yourself inside 
of fifteen minutes, but he is not to know that. If you 
want him to pile wood, the way to address him is thusly : 

" Now, see here, Henry, I want every stick of that wood 
piled up before noon. If I come home and find you 
haven't done it I'll lick you till you can't stand up !" 

It is more than a boy of his size ought to do in a whole 
day, but you are not to blame that he is not thirteen years 
old instead of eight. 

If you hear that any one in the neighborhood has broken 
a window, stolen fruit or unhinged a gate, be sure that it 
is your boy. If he denies it, take down the rod and tell 
him that you will thrash him to death if he doesn't " own 
up," but that you will spare him if he does. He will own 
up to a lie to get rid of the thrashing, and then you can 
talk to him about the fate of liars and bad boys, and end 
up by saying : 

" Go to bed now, and in the morning I'll attend to your 
case." 

If you take him to church and he looks around, kicks 
the seat or smiles at some boy acquaintance, thrash him 
the moment you get home. He ought to have been listen- 
ing to the sermon. If he sees all the other boys going to 
the circus, and wants fifteen cents to take him in, tell him 
what awful wicked things circuses are ; how they demoral- 
ize boys; how he ought to be thrashed for even seeing the 
procession go by ; and then when he's sound asleep do you 
sneak off, pay half a dollar to go in, and come home aston- 
ished at the menagerie and pleased with the wonderful 
gymnastic feats. 

Keep your boy steady at school, have work for him every 



272 



ENDING HERE. 



holiday ; thrash him if he wants to go fishing or nutting ; 
restrain his desire for skates, kites and marbles ; rout him 
out at daylight, cold or hot ; cuff his ears for asking ques- 
tions ; make his clothes out of your cast-off garments, and 
you'll have the satisfaction, when old and gray-headed, of 
knowing that you would have trained up a useful member 
of society had he not died just as he was getting well 
broken in. 







CANVASSING FOR THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. 



jLJ" E was tall and spare, long-haired and rusty-looking. 
<&-> His plug hat bore many dents and bruises, as if long 
worn and sadly used, and his black coat was minus of but- 
tons, save one, and that hung by only a slight tenure. 
His boots were in a dilapidated state, his pants had long 
ceased to have any commercial value, and his shirt-bosom 
bore stains and spots and had lost all the firmness and 
l ^ ^^ A (i ^i stiffness which made 

him gaze fondly upon 
it as it was received 
|g^ from the laundry. 

He softly opened 
^ the door of a saloon, 
and seeing that the 
saloon-keeper was 
alone he grew bolder, 
straightened up and 
walked in. 

" Sir," he said as 

he leaned over the 

bar, "I am an author- 

^~ ' ized agent to collect 

Authorized Agent. Subscriptions for the 

Washington monument — money to complete it. [ am 
canvassing this city in aid of this noble work of national 
charity and pride." 

R 273 




274 NEVER SAW WASHINGTON. 

" Did you shpokes to me ?" asked the saloon-keeper. 

" Yes, I was saying that I am an authorized agent to 
collect money to complete the Washington monument." 

" I haf not zeen him — I guess he haf gone to Toledo," 
answered the beer-vender. 

" Sir, you misunderstand me," continued the agent. 
" My name is Shiner, and I am soliciting money to com- 
plete the Washington monument. The Washington monu- 
ment is not a man, but a stone shaft — a pillar — a column, 
to be erected by the American nation to exhibit its grati- 
tude to the man who saved this country." 

" Who vhas dot man ?" asked the saloon-keeper. 

" Washington, sir — George Washington, generally refer- 
red to as the Father of his country," answered Shiner. 

" Shorge Washington ? I haf not zeen him," mused the 
saloonist, scratching his head. 

" Of course you haven't — he's been dead almost a hun- 
dred years." 

"Ishdotzo-o'" 

" Why, certainly it is ! Of course none of us ever saw 
him, but who has not read of him ! Almost every house 
in the land has a picture of him on the wall, and every 
school-book speaks of him." 

" Vhas he a member of de gommon gouncil ?" 

" My dear man, didn't you ever read of George Wash- 
ington?" asked Shiner. "Is it possible that you have 
lived in this country even one brief month and not read or 
heard all about the first President of the United States !" 

" Did he lif in Chicago ?" asked the saloon-man in an 
anxious tone. 

" Why — ha ! — why, my dear man, if this wasn't such a 
solemn subject I should feel inclined to laugh. Is it possi- 
ble that I have come across an adult man in this, the 
nineteenth century, in this age of progress and educa- 



NOT WITH GLASS DOORS. 275 

tion, and in this era of unprecedented advantages, who 
does not know all about the great and memorable Georsre 
Washington !" 

"May-be he lifed in Milwaukee, eh?" inquired the 
man, getting nervous. 

Shiner stepped back, sighed heavily, assumed the look 
of a martyr, and finally said : 

"Let me state the case plainly: George "Washington 
was a man." 
"Vhas him!" 

" Yes, sir, he was a man. He took command of our 
forces in 1776, whipped the British, was made President 
two terms, and died about sixty years ago." 
" Vhat ailed him — der shmall-box ?" 
"No, sir, he died of fever, I believe, though that is 

neither here nor there. You see, he was a big man, a " 

" Did he weigh tree hoonerd pounds ?" 
" I mean he was a great man, and he was also a good 
man. Everybody loved him for his good deeds, and desir- 
ing to keep his memory 
green in the public 
heart they are going to 
?^5%n\ erec t a monument, to be 
m^ called the Washington 
Monument." 

"Mit glass doors?" 
" Glass doors ! No. A monument is made of stone — a 
high shaft or pillar, sometimes a hundred and fifty feet 
high. It is made of blocks of stone, laid up solid, and will 
last through all time. This Washington monument will be 
as large as this house at the base, and taper up to a height 
of two hundred feet or more. It will cost a large sum of 
of money, but the American people should feel honored at 
the privilege of contributing. Thousands of dollars have 




276 wasn't allowed to explain. 

been expended in constructing the base, and now what we 
want is money to go ahead with the shaft." 

" You vhant zum money — you vhant to get zum bill 
shanged ?" asked the saloon-man. 

" As I told you," replied Shiner, " I am an authorized 
agent to collect subscriptions to complete the monument. 
How much will you give ?" 
" I gif you money !" 
" Yes — how much ?" 
" Vhat for ?" 

" For the monument to Washington." 
" Vhat washingwoman ?" 

" Sir, will you give me twenty-five cents to help com- 
plete the Washington monument ?" 
" Vhat is dat ?" 

" Shiner stepped back, gazed at the man 
with despair in his eyes, and then asked : 

" Must I repeat my statements over and 
over again ? Can't you understand me ?" 
" You make zum fun of me, eh !" exclaimed 
the saloon-keeper. "You dinks I knows 
nottings, eh ? Vhell I shall show you pooty 
quick ! Do you zee dis glub ?" 

" My dear man, let me explain," said 

Shiner; "you see " 

" I zee nottings !" shouted the man, wav- 
FoRTHEM ™ BN Mng his club. 

" But, don't you understand that I am an auth " 




" Go away py dat door,awful quick?" roared the saloonist. 

" But won't you let me " 

" Shump away py dat door, I zay !" shrieked the bar- 
tender, flourishing his club ; and Shiner backed out and 
was soon after seen passing himself off as a Kansas grass- 
hopper sufferer. 



i 



THE LEGEND OF A BAGGAGE SMASHER. 



gp> KN"EW him. It was years ago. His name was — 
ij^ well, call it Bumps. If you ever get into a railroad 
struggle, where one train struggles to get another off 
the track, you will know more about Bumps, or your 
friends will. This Bumps was a nice young man. His 
hair was always combed low down ; he wore brass buttons, 
and there was a mysterious report current that he had been 
known to call on the sherry for three, on the Fourth of 
July, and actually pay for it — pay for it, sir ! We held 
him in awe, we boys did. He could talk about lever- 
watches, pointer dogs, steam barges, and he could relate 
incidents of difficulties in prize rings so beautifully that I 
used to wish to knock some one in the stomach, and break 
some ambitious Englishman's jaw-bone. If Bumps said 
anything the whole town swore that it was so. If he didn't 
say anything we stood back and waited for developments. 
At last he went away. His uncle used his influence to 
get him a position as baggage-man. I never heard of 
him for years, but I was called one day to see him die. I 
went with great pleasure. Bumps was a mere skeleton ; 
his eyes were like saucers ; his hair was all worn off, from 
tearing around so in bed. He told me all about it. He 
drove everybody out of the room, bade me string up my 
nerves to hear a mournful tale, and then he commenced. 
He went on the railroad a pure young man. He took 
charge of trunks and boxes, and commenced by lifting 

277 




278 IN THE PATH OF DUTY. 

them by the handles, and setting them down carefully. 
He had not served a month when the President of the road 
called him into the office, cut down his salary, and told 
him if there was any more complaints from the conductor, 
Bumps would be bumped out of a berth. 
Then the young man grew cold and stern. 
He was bound to suit the railroad corpo- 
ration or die. He began by walking up 
to a poor old chest belonging to an orphan, 
and putting his foot through the corner ; 
the conductor saw the act ; the two shook 
hands, and they wept for hours on each 
other's breasts. Bumps had not made two 
^i = trips before he could sling a satchel eleven 
when he was green, rods, retaining both handles in his grasp. 
Innocent owners of such things threatened him, and com- 
menced suits against him, and swore they would never ride 
on the road again ; but Bumps was firm. He was digni- 
fied ; he was solemn ; he was working for a higher sphere ; 
he was treading in the path of duty. 

"When gentle females would hand up their tender little 
baskets and satchels, Bumps would smile a diabolical smile, 
and get in a corner and jump on the articles and toss them 
up and kick them, and fling them them through ethereal 
space. And when the train stopped he would throw out a 
waterfall and tooth-brush in answer to call for check " 22." 
Husbands would strike at him, and dare him out of his 
den, and call him a base fiend ; but Bumps was solemn ; 
he knew his line of business. When he got hold of a nice 
trunk he would carry a countenance like a strawberry, for 
joyfulness. He would jerk off one handle, then another, 
then kick in the ends, then take an axe and smash the 
lock, and then let the shirts and things rattle out on the 
track. It got so at last that people actually paid high 



THE HATEFUL TRUNK. 



279 



prices for the privilege of living along the line of that road, 
as they got their garments for nothing. All that was 
needed was to have the children follow up Bumps' train. 
But at last there came a black day. A miserable, con- 
temptible, sneaking wretch, who owned a saw-mill, went 
traveling. He run his factories two weeks on nothing but 
trunk-stuff, and he brought out the wickedest trunk that 
ever went into a car. It was seven feet thick all round, 
and there were sixteen nails driven in one on top of the 
other until the thing was smash proof. Then he gave it 
into Bumps' hands, charging him to be " very careful if he 
pleased." The train started. Bumps got the axe as usual 
and struck at the lid, but the axe bounded back. He 
struck once more ; the axe flew in pieces. Then he got a 
crowbar and a can of powder, but he couldn't burst a nail. 
He swore and jumped up and down, and wanted to die, 
and wished he'd never been born. He got all the train 
men in; they all pounded, but the trunk held firm. It 
went through all right. It was handed down without a 
jar, and the owner was there to say " Thank you, sir," and 
he pretended he was going back again, and had the chest 
put aboard once more. Bumps grew pale. Ho grew sick. 

His legs shook. He had 
chills all over him. The big 
trunk went back a witness 
of " man's inhumanity to 
man." Bumps grew worse. 
He felt that he was forever 
disgraced, and went to bed 
with the brain fever. They 
tried to console him, and said 
that they could have busted 
the chest if they had only 
thought to have a collision, but the spirit of the man was 




"They Tried to Console Him. 



280 couldn't get another. 

gone. I was there when he died. I never want to weep 
as I wept then. He just shrunk right away, murmuring 
" Cuss that t-r-u-n-k." 

The road tried to get another man just like him, but it 
tried in vain. It secured men who could mash trunks and 
rip open satchels, hut they couldn't stand up with that 
sweet smile on their faces and apologize to passengers in 
a way to make people feel ashamed that they hadn't 
brought along more trunks to be demolished. 




THAT HIRED GIRL. 



^^yllEN she came to work for the family on Congress 

;▼£)▼ street the lady of the house sat down and told 
her that agents, book-peddlers, hat-rack men, picture sel- 
lers, ash buyers, rag-men and all that class of men must 
be met at the front door and coldly repulsed, and Sarah 
said she'd repulse 'em if she had to break every broomstick 
in Detroit. 

And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed 
right up to 'em, and when she got through talking the 
cheekiest agent was only too glad to leave. It got so after 
a while that peddlers marked that house, and the door bell 
never rang except for company. 

The other day as the lady of the house was enjoying a 
nap, and Sarah was wiping off the spoons, the bell rang. 
She hastened to the door expecting to see a lady, but her 
eyes encountered a slim man, dressed in black and wear- 
ing a white neck-tie. He was the new minister, and he 
was going around to get acquainted with the members of 
his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this. 

" Ah — um — is Mrs. — ah " 

" Git !" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate. 

"Beg pardon, but I'd like to see — see " 

"Meander!" she shouted, looking around for a weapon, 
"we don't want any flour-sifters here !" 

" You are mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly " I 

called to " 

281 



282 BUT HE didn't get in. 

" Don't want anything to keep moths away — fly !" she 
exclaimed, getting reel in the face. 

" Is the lady in ?" he inquired, trying to look over Sarah's 
head. 

"Yes, the lady's in, and I'm in, and you're out I" she 
snapped, " and now I don't want to stand here talking to 
a fly-trap agent any longer ! Come, lift your boots !" 

" I am not an agent," he said, trying to smile, " I'm the 
new " 

" Yes, I know you — you are the new man with a patent 
flat-iron, but we don't want any, and you'd better go before 
I call the dog !" 

" "Will you give the lady my card and say that I called ?" 

"No, I won't. "We're bored to death with cards and 
handbills and circulars. Come, I can't stand here all day." 

" Didn't you know that I was a minister ?" he asked as 
he backed oif. 

" No, nor I don't know it now ; you look like the man 
who sold the woman next door a dollar chromo for eighteen 
shillings !" 

" But here is my card." 

" I don't care for cards, I tell you ! If you leave that 
gate open I'll heave a flower-pot at you !" 

" I will call again," he said as he went through the gate. 

"It won't do you any good!" she shouted after him; 
" we don't wan't no prepared food for infants — no piano 
music — no stuffed birds ! I know the policeman on this 
beat, and if you come around here again he'll soon find 
out whether you are a confidence man or a vagrant !" 

And she took unusual care to lock the door. 



AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 



FEW minutes before his Honor's time for putting in 
an appearance, thirteen boys, marching in single file, 

and headed by a boy pounding " time " on an old tin pail, 

drew up at the door and called for Bijah. 

" My dear children, 



why this unusual dem- 
onstration ?" inquired 
the old man as he stood 
in the door. 

"We fellers," said 
the leader of the boys, 
removing his old hat, 
" we fellers go our dol- 
lars on you every time. 
You are kind, inno- 
cent, good-hearted and 
handsome, and we 
ain't the chaps to des- 
pise you 'cause you're 
bald-headed and have 
big feet. "We feel like 
we owed you one, and 
the boys have a little 
present for yon. It 




■sZ^^js 



The Sketch. 



didn't cost a heap, but you can lay it away in the bottom 
bureau drawer, and the moths won't even dare smell it. 

283 



284 JULIA THE I. 

It isn't as big as a wagon nor as valuable as a corner lot, 
but we hope you'll accept it and treasure it as coming from 
those who love you." 

The boy then handed out a well executed charcoal sketch 
pinned to a shingle. It was meant to represent Bijah sit- 
ting on a six-rail fence spitting tobacco juice into a William 
goat's eyes. He received it tenderly, and tears came to 
his eyes as he said : 

" B-boys, this is a great surprise. I-Fm an old man, on 
my way to the grave, but I love the b-boys, and I hope 
every one of you may live to be G-Grovernor of Michigan. 
Each of you can go up to the hat store and get a p-plug 
hat on my account." 

The sketch was taken in and leaned up against the wall, 
and his Honor having arrived 

JULIA DAVIS 

Was escorted from the corridor. She was such a short, fat 
woman that his Honor had to rise up and lean over the 
desk to look at her. As she rolled her eyes up in an 
appealing manner he said : 

" Julia, how on earth could you get so drunk that the 
men were obliged to draw you down here on a painted 
cart?" 

" Drinking whisky, I suppose," she replied, in a voice 
highly tinctured with asthma. 

" Yes, I suppose so, too ; but an old woman like you, 
and a fat one at that, should feel above such things. It 
makes me sad, Julia, to see a woman degrade herself like 
this. How must your husband feel ?" 

" He gets drunk, too !" she answered, coughing heavily. 

" Ah, he does ! But think of your poor children." 

" I haven't a child in the world !" she coughed. 

"Julia," said his Honor, after a long pause, "Julia 







THE MAN WHO HOLLERED. 285 

Davis, do you know where you will go to when you die — 
do you care ?" 

" To the (cough) graveyard, I suppose," 
she answered. 

"Very well," he said, as he settled back, 
" your being fat is no excuse for your being 
drunk, and I'll make it thirty days." 

PASSING THROUGH. 

" Have you any excuse for hollering on 
the streets at midnight?" inquired the 
Court of Tim Johnson. 

" No excuse, 'eept dat I didn't holler," 
Julia. replied the prisoner. 

" Do you stand up there and deny the allegation ?" 
" No, sir, but I denies hollering. I saw r Ben Lewis on 
de corner, and I jist remarked : ' Ho dere, Ben !' when de 
cop comes up and grabs me. Dere was no yelling nor 
hollering — hope to be struck dead as dat cheer if dere 
was ! " 

The officer couldn't make out a very strong case, and 
his Honor said : 

" Tim or Timothy Johnson, this has been a very narrow 
escape for you. Theoretically, you have been sitting on a 
keg of powder, liable to be blown higher than Gilderoy's 
kite by some untoward accident. You may go home, but 
don't holler to Ben Lewis or anybody else again. This is 
a big world, full of strange people, and the best thing you 
can do is to slide softly and gently along with your mouth 
shut." 

"Dat's what I shall purceed to do," answered the pris- 
oner, and he backed out, sighed a sigh for his lost umbrella, 
and meandered away. 



286 RICHARD HAD TO GO. 

A REGULAR. 

" He's a regular," said Bijah as he brought out Richard 
Dolan. " He says he can kick the top of your head oft* as 
slick as buttermilk running off the table, and he's been 
cussing and taking on awfully." 

"You made those remarks, did you?" asked the Court 
as he laid aside his Seek-no-further. 

" No, sir — never said a word," replied Richard. 

" Because," continued the Court, " when a man wants to 
lay for me, and do kicking, and so forth, he needn't hold 
back any on account of my official position. I'm edging 
up to fifty, and I can't go out nights with the boys and 
hook mellons any more, but I'm up to business when the 
chip is knocked from my shoulder. The warrant charges 
you with drunkenness." 

" It's a lie !" exclaimed the prisoner. 

" That's all I want to hear of that !" replied his Honor, 
lifting his spectacles. " I see by your face that you are a 
low-down, good for nothing loafer, and I send you up for 
three months." 

The prisoner grasped the iron railing, but Bijah fastened 
his cant-hooks into the fellow's neck-handkerchief, gave a 
half twist, and Richard Dolan followed along behind, his 
face the color of a horse-plum. The old janitor is regular 
hook-and-1 adder company in himself, and when he fastens 
to anything it's got to come if it isn't chained. 

POT CALLING KETTLE BLACK. 

" William Henry Lovegood, and Mary Ann Lovegood, 
you are charged here with disturbing the peace by indulg- 
ing in a family row," said his Honor. 

"Sure, sir, I'm a poor old man," whined William 
Henry. 

" And I'm a poor old woman," whined Mary Ann. 



MARY ANN AND WILLIAM. 



287 



" Well, what started this fight ?" 

" He struck me !" she said. 

" She struck me !" he said. 

" You lie !" she screamed. 

" You lie back !" he shrieked. 

" Ladies and gentlemen, cease those remarks at once,'' 
said his Honor. " I haven't the least doubt that you both 
lie, and I presume you are both at fault. You can go; and 
my advice to the police is to let you fight and howl and 
pull hair until you get tired of it. I've had you up here 
so often that I'm going to try another plan." 

They went out growling, and it wasn't 
five minutes before a boy came running in 
and said that Mary Ann had William H. 




down on the walk and was "just a pounding old lightning 
out of him." 

When court adjourned Bijah turned to show his present 
to his Honor, but lo ! some callous wretch had placed two 
quids over Bijah's eyes in the sketch, and the whole had 
been ruined. When the reporters left, the old man was 
around in the crowd offering $5,000,000 reward for the 
scoundrel, but meeting with no encouragement. 



SEEING THE MENAGERIE. 



had paused for a long time before the show-case con- 
taining four rattlesnakes, a boa-constrictor and several 
other reptiles, and was taking a peep at the skull of 
Oliver Cromwell, when the pair came in. 

He was a young man of three-and-twenty. She was 
about eighteen. One could see in a moment that he had 
great conceit. His hat was slanted on his left ear, his pant- 
legs were lifted enough to show the red tops of his boots, 
and his head and shoulders rolled this way and that as he 
walked. 

It was a fair museum of natural wonders attached to a 
circus, and the dust on the young man's boots and back 
was proof that he had made a journey of several miles, 
accompanied by the girl, to see what was to be seen. She 
knew nothing — he knew everything. 

" There, Mariar," he said, as he caught sight of the skull 
and the placard beside it; "there's something mighty 
interesting-7-the skull of Oliver Cromwell." 

" Who was it ?" she mildly inquired. 

" Of course you don't know," he replied, swelling out his 
chest; "he was the durndest feller I ever met. I rode 
with him in the cars once when I was going to Dayton, 
and though he was like a lamb that day, I could see mur- 
der sticking right out of his eyes. He killed a hull family 
the very next week after that, and was hung in Cincinnati. 

288 



HOW HE LAID 'EM. 289 

He sent word for me to come and see hini hun£, but I 
couldn't go — had to sow buckwheat that day." 

She looked up at him with awe and admiration plain 
to be rea4 on her face, and they moved along to the cage 
containing the Ibex. 

" Humph ! that's the worst-looking Ibex I ever saw," he 
growled as he loaned over the rope. 
fy " He looks fierce, though," she whispered. 

" Fierce ? you bet he is ! But he couldn't commence 
with some of those Ibexes I killed out on the plains ! Did 
I ever show you that scar on my leg where an Ibex clawed 
me one nio;ht?" 

" I — I guess not." 

" "Well, I will sometime. When they go for a feller, 
they fight to kill, but I laid thirteen of 'em out colder'n a 
wedge !" 

" Here's the Polar bear," she said, as they reached the 
next cage. 

" He don't amount to much," replied the young man — 
" don't commence with the one I killed near Medina, in 
1859." 

" I didn't know as you ever killed a bear !" she exclaimed 
in great surprise. 

" Well, the more you get acquainted with me, the more 
you will know about me," he replied. " I've killed hun- 
dreds of wild animals, and not mentioned it to even my 
own mother." 

" Why do they call 'em ' Polar bears V " she asked as 
they turned to the cage again. 

"Why do they? Why do they call 'em Polar bears? 
Why, because, when they chase a man up a tree, they hunt 
around, get a pole and jab at him until they knock him 
down, and then they craunch him in a second." 
S 



290 AND THAT BONANZA. 

She was perfectly satisfied with the explanation, and 
they moved along to the den of lions. 

" My stars ! what savage monsters !" she exclaimed, as 
the pair of lions rose up. 

" Savage ? Well, if you call them savage, I wish you 
could have seen the three lions which I killed when I lived 
down near Oberlin ! The three of 'em weighed just a ton, 
and their claws were seven inches long ! Their skins are 
in the museum there now." 

" I — I don't be never heard about it before," she 

stammered. 

" Mariar, do you believe I'd lie to you about such a sim- 
ple thing as killing three lions, when here we are engaged 
to be married V he inquired, in an injured tone. 

" !N" — no, I guess you wouldn't," she replied; " it wouldn't 
be right." 

They walked along to the cage containing a pair of 
tigers. I expected to hear him announce that he had 
killed several tigers during his boyhood days, and was 
therefore greatly disappointed when he quietly remarked : 

" I've often wished I could meet a tiger when I was 
going home Sunday nights, but they've always kept clear 
o' me. They know what they'd get if they come foolin' 
around me !" 

The next cage contained a hyena, but there was no 
placard, and when she asked him what sort of an animal 
it was, he was stuck. 

She said she had a mind to ask somebody, when a broad 
smile covered his face, and he replied : 

" I was just tryin' you, Mariar ! I knew all the time, 
and I wanted to see if you knew. That animile is a 
Bonanza !" 

" I never heard of him afore." 

" Of course not — there's lots of animiles you never 



AND THE WILD CATS. 291 

heard of; but when I used to drive stage into Wellsville, 
I heard those fellers hootin' and howlin' in the swamp like 
all get out !" 

" "Why I didn't know you ever drove stage." 

" I don't tell everybody about it, but as long as we are 
engaged to be married it won't do any hurt," he continued, 
his face wearing a placid smile. " One dark night, when 
you couldn't see your hand afore your eyes, eighteen of 
those animiles pitched on to the stage." 

" They did ?" 

" Yes, cum in a drove, and such howls and snarls and 
squawls and yowls and growls you never heard in all your 
born days ! Some stage-drivers would have fainted away." 

He waited at that point. He wanted her to make an 
inquiry, and she made it, and he replied : 

" I didn't take a back seat for no eighteen Bonanzas. I 
was just as cool as I am now. I stopped the stage, tied 
the lines to the brake, whipped out my revolver and bowie- 
knife, jumped down, and I tell you there was business for 
about an hour and a half!" 

" Did you kill any ?" 

" Kill any ? Why, Mariar, you don't know me yet ! I 
killed every one ; and when I got through with 'em the 
road was almost knee-deep in blood! The only hurt I 
got was where one of 'em bit me in the back, right between 
my shoulders, and the wound is healed up now so it don't 
bother me any. Pass your hand over my back, Mariar — 
there — right there — can't you feel a kind of a spot 
there?" 

"Yes — seems as if I could." 

" He took a chunk right out, but I paid 'em for it. Now 
less go and see the snakes." 

She drew back from the show-case with a shudder, and 
he put his arm around her and said : 



292 AND THOSE ELEPHANTS. 

"Don't be scart, Mariar; your Oscar Henry is here — 
right here beside you !" 

" See their eyes glisten !" she whispered. 

" I don't care two cents for their glistening eyes !" he 
bravely replied. " I've seen snakes afore to-day." 

" ]STot such big ones." 

" Mariar, you don't think I'd lie to you, do you, when 
we're goin' to be married next month ? No, I couldn't do 
it. Those are just common snakes, Mariar. When I was 
driving canal-boat I used to carry a sword to kill snakes, 
and I've killed millions of 'em four times as large as 
these !" 

" When did you drive canal-boat?" she asked, a look of 
doubt in her eyes. 

" Mariar, I wouldn't lie to you, would I ?" 

" Seems as if you wouldn't." 

" Well, when I say that I've killed bigger snakes than 
these, I mean it." 

From the show-case they crossed over to the camels, and 
he reached out and patted one of the animals and said : 

" I wish I had as many dollars as I've rode miles on the 
backs of these camels." 

" Did you ever ride a camel ?" 

" Did I ever ? Well, wish the circus man would let me 
take one o' these out and gallop around a little while !" 

When they reached the corner where the elephant was 
chained my time was up and I had to go. I heard her 
remark that she never saw such a large elephant, and as I 
walked away he was saying : 

" Well, you never traveled, you see. I wish you'd been 
alone: the time father and I went to Indiana. We were 
chased over forty times by elephants, and the smallest of 
'em was more'n four times as large as this one !" 



WHAT THREE WOMEN SAID. 




HE other day, on the way to Cleve- 
land, I sat behind three women for 
an hour or two. They were all 
friendly to each other, and they 
didn't mind my presence. 

"Did you hear about Sarah Par- 
sons 1" asked one. 
" Goodness ! ISTo !" answered the other. 
"Well, Sarah's got her pay, I tell you!" continued the 
first. " You know she was a whole year trying to catch 
that red-headed widower. Well, she finally married him ; 
and what do you think ? They say that he sneers at her — 
actually uses oaths — when things go wrong; keeps her 
from going to church ; is sot against company ; and won't 
let her use above two eggs in a sweet-cake !" 
" Mon-ster-ous !" exclaimed the others. 
There was a moment of silence, and then one of the 
trio spoke up : 

" Did you know that Mrs. Lanccy had a new empress- 
cloth dress ?" 

" You don't say !" exclaimed the others. 
" Yes, I do — I know it for a fact, for she wore it past our 
house the other day. The dress never cost less than seven 
dollars — the bare cloth, and then there's the making and 

293 



294 AND THAT HAT. 



trimmings thrown in ! Just think of a woman in her cir- 
cumstances going to such an expense ! Why, if I hadn't 
seen it with my own eyes I couldn't believe it !" 

" It is awful !" exclaimed the others. 

" And the worst of it is, she seems to hold her head so 
high !" continued the first. " I've heard that her grand- 
father had to go to the poor-house when he broke his leg, 
and yet she holds her head up with the best of us ! Of 
course I don't want to back-bite any one — it isn't my 
nature to talk behind people's backs — but I will say that 
I shouldn't wonder if such extravagance brought that 
family to want for bread before spring comes !" 







^Nothing was said for the next five minutes, and then one 
of the other two exclaimed : 

" Land sakes ! but I'd almost forgotten to tell you Lizzie 
Thorburn has a new hat !" 

" What ! Another !" 

"Yes, another; she wore it to church last Sunday! 
Think of that — a girl having three hats in one year ! 

" Shameful !" they cried in chorus. 

" I don't know what the world is coming to," continued 
the first. " When I was a girl, one hat had to last me 



YALLER SOAP. 295 

seven years, while now, a girl wants two a year — if not 
three. I tell you, when I sat in church last Sunday, and 
saw Lizzie come shying in with that new hat (must have 
cost three dollars at the least), I felt queer. The fate of the 
sinful people of Sodom and Gomorrah came to my mind 
in a second ; and I shouldn't have heen surprised if Lizzie 
had then been stricken right down !" 

They pondered over it for two or three minutes, and 
then one of them replied : 

" So, Mary Jane Doolittle is dead, is she ?" 

"Yes, poor thing," was the reply; " dead and buried a 
week ago. Hannah was at the funeral, and she says that 
Doolittle never shed a tear — never even blew his nose !" 

" He didn't ?" 

" No, he didn't. Hannah watched him all through, and 
she says he has a heart like a stone. If he should be 
arrested as her murderer I shouldn't be the least bit sur- 
prised. Poor woman ! I met her only last August, and I 
could see that she was killing herself. I didn't ask her 
right out about it, but I could understand that Doolittle 
was a cold-hearted wretch. He didn't have much to say, 
but just one remark convinced me of his cold-heartedness. 
He asked for soap to wash himself, and when she handed 
him a piece he looked at it, sneered like, and says he : 

* Mary Jane, you mustn't buy any more yaller soap V " 

« Did he say that ?" 

" He certainly did. I'll go before any court and swear 
to it !" 

I had to get off the train then, and missed further con- 
versation. 



JACKSON GREEN. 



RACKSON GREEN was fourteen years old, and he 
fQ lived in Columbus. The other day, while reading a 
dime novel, his grandfather came in with the paper and 
asked him to read the President's message. It irritated 
Jackson to break off his story just where a trapper was 
going to be scalped, and he made up his mind to have 
revenge on his grandfather. He took up the paper and 
started off as follows : 

[The business of the Patent Office shows a steady 
increase. Since 1836 over 155,000 patents have been 
issued. Officer Deck, of the station house, wants it dis- 
tinctly understood that he is not the Deck confined there 
a few days since as a lunatic] 

" What !" exclaimed the old 

man, "is that in the message?" 

" Right here, every word of 

it!" replied Jackson. And he 

continued : 

[The business of the Agri- 
cultural Bureau is rapidly in- 
creasing, and the department 
grounds are being enlarged, 
and the highest prize in a Chinese lottery is twenty-nine 
cents, and the man who draws it has his name in the paper, 
and is looked upon as a heap of a fellow.] 

296 




^\w\\ 3*^ \ftV Y<\«*&° 



JACKSON DIDN'T WRITE IT. *J:»7 

""What! what is that?" roared the old man. "I never 
heard of such a message as that!" 

"I can't help it," replied Jackson; "you asked me to 
read the President's message, and I'm reading it." And 
he went on : 

[During the year, 5,758 new applications for army invalid 
pensions were allowed, at an aggregate annual rate of 
$39,332, and kerosene oil is the best furniture oil; it 
cleanses, adds a polish, and preserves from the ravages of 
insects.] 

" Lor' save me ! but I never heard of the likes before !" 
exclaimed the old man. " I've read every President's mes- 
sage since Jackson's time, but I never saw anything like 
this!" 

" Well, I didn't write the message," replied Jackson, and 
he continued : 

[During the year, 3,264,332 acres of the public domain 
were certified to railroads, against over six millions of acres 
the preceding year, and you will save t money by buying 
your Christmas presents in the brick block — fine toys of 
every description, at reduced prices.] 

"Jackson Green, does that message read that way?" 
asked the old man. 

"You don't suppose I'd lie to you, do you?" inquired 
Jackson, putting on an injured look. 

" Well, it seems singular," mused the old man. " I 
shouldn't wonder if Grant w r as tired when he wrote that." 

Jackson went on : 

[There are 17,900 survivors of the war of 1812 on the 
pension rolls, at a total annual rate of $1,691,520, and still 
another lot of those one dollar felt skirts ; they go like hot 
cakes on a cold morning.] 

" Hold on, Jackson — stop right there !" said the old man 
as he rose up. "You needn't read another word of that 



298 



AN AWFUL EXAMPLE. 



message. If General Grant thinks lie can insult the 
American people with impunity, he will find himself mis- 
taken. You may throw the paper in the stove, Jackson, 
and let this be an awful example to you never to taste 
intoxicating drinks." 

Jackson tossed the paper away and resumed his dime 
novel, while the old gent leaned back and pondered on the 
degradation of men in high places. 




1 1 



NIAGARA FALLS. 



JHERE'S water enough to make them a perfect success. 
I learned from the depot-master that Nature made 
the Falls, hut he wouldn't commit himself when I inquired 
as to the hackmen, landlords and relic-sellers. 

I thought I had strength enough to walk from the depot 
to a hotel, a matter of three or four hundred feet, but 
seven or eight hackmen rushed at me, and yelled : 




« II— a _cks— hacks !" 

After the police had stopped the fight, I started for the 
hotel, followed by six hackmen in line. Some thought it 

299 



300 CLERK AND WAITER. 

was a funeral procession, and others took me for a lord. 
"When I reached the hotel the hackmen demanded fifty 
cents each, saying that it was the same fare whether I rode 
or walked. 

" But how could I ride up here in six hacks at once ?" 

They replied that I couldn't bluff them with any rule of 
addition, division or multiplication, and rather than seem 
penurious I paid them three dollars. 

The hotel clerks at Niagara are alone a sight worth 
traveling from Detroit to see. They look down on a com- 
mon traveler as a Newfoundland dog would gaze at a pin- 
head. At the hotel where I halted, I had to take off my 
hat, assume a reverential expression of countenance, and 
address the clerk as follows : 

" Most high and noble duke of the register, would you 
condescend to permit a poor humble worm of the dust like 
me to ask you what time the train from the west is due 
here ?" 

If he felt like it, he would take his eyes from the ceiling, 
turn around on his stool, flash his diamonds into my eyes 
and point to the time-card on the wall ; but if he didn't 
feel like it, he wouldn't pay the least attention. 

The Niagara hotel waiter is only one peg beneath the 
clerk. He has heard about John Jacob Astor and the 
Rothschilds, but he wouldn't compromise his reputation 
by saj'ing that he was intimately acquainted with them. I 
didn't know how to take him at first, and was reckless 
enough to put a dollar bill beside my plate at supper time. 

" What is that ?" he inquired, as he picked it up. 

" That ? That, sir, is lucre — dross — money — a green- 
back," I responded. 

" Humph ! you'd better keep it — you might want to buy 
the Falls," he retorted. 

I thought some of handing him my wallet, but as I 






5LIM CONSOLATION. 



301 



didn't, I had to make my supper out of pepper, salt, celery 
and crackers. 

The guide is another feature of Niagara. The one who 
took me around, showed me Goat Island from fourteen 
different points, and wanted two dollars a point, and when 
I growled about the price, he sneeringly replied that if I 




One of the Points. 

had come there to get a one-horse view of the Falls, I 
should have brought a tent and some crackers and cheese 
along, and camped out on the commons. 

The relic-sellers came at me in a body. I at first refused 
to buy Thomas Jefferson's arm-chair and Washington's 
cane, but the guide told me a story about a miserly fellow 
who was thrown over the falls for refusing to purchase 
relics, and I felt compelled to select twelve Indian canoes, 
six Revolutionary muskets, a quart of Mexican war bullets, 
several war-clubs, and an armful of tomahawks. 

I left Niagara with only one thing to console me. It has 
been ascertained that the Falls are wearing away at the 
rate of an inch every three hundred years, and it won't !»• 
long before the cataract will be completely worn out. 



OF COURSE HE DID. 



o TfbT "TC was a fi ne ^y Pressed young man, having a gorgeous 
(is paste diamond and lavender pants, and as he handed 
a boy a bundle and a bouquet he said : 

" Now, bub, look sharp. Take this bouquet to Miss , 

at No. 17 street, and take these two shirts around to 

the laundry to be washed. Don't make a mistake, now." 

"You bet," replied the boy, but he went directly to 

No. 17 street and handed the two shirts to Miss , 

and said : 

" Your feller sent them, with his compliments — and he 
said you'd better put 'em into water the first thing, as they 
are rayther delicate !" 

The young man sought to explain matters, but the 
young lady clenched her hands and said that her letters 
must be returned or there would be a lawsuit. 

302 



AN ABUSED BOOK. 




L MA 1ST ACS are so common 
now-a-days that people scarce- 
ly ever look into them, anct a 
majority would scoff at 
the idea of finding enter- 
^ taining and instruct- 
liive reading between 
the yellow covers. 
But I care for noth- 
ing more than to 
| sit down of a long 
winter evening 
and peruse my 
family Alma- 
nac. 
In what other 

book can be found the fact that " Spica rises 10 22 e " on 
the 9th of January ? A great many people will live right 
over that day and never think of Spica rising, or if they 
do they won't care a copper whether it rises 10 22 e, or 
7 14g. 

But for the Almanac who would stop to think that 
Galileo was born on the 15th of January, 1564? Poor 
Gal ! Born into this world without a shirt to his back, 
see what a name he made ! I never pick up an Almanac 

303 



304 OTHER GREAT EVENTS. 

and see his name without wondering where he is now, and 
why some patent medicine man don't hunt him up and get 
his name to a certificate. We couldn't all be born in 1564, 
but we can all be respectable and refuse to become book 
canvassers. 

And but for this book who of us would know that the 
12th of February is " in perihelion ?" We would go right 
on with our business and never think of it. Perihelion 
would go to grass if it wasn't for the unceasing literary 
labor of a few men, who are not half appreciated. 

" Aldebaran sets 8 18 e " on the 9th of April, but how 
few people will be prepared for it ! • Some will be going a 
visiting, others will be drunk, others will be running for 
Alderman. And on the 18th, when " Procyon sets 10 10 e," 
how many will give the awful event any attention ? 

On the 18th of September " Pollux rises 12 6." How 
many of us can sympathize with poor Poll as he gets out 
of bed at six minutes after 12 and rubs sweet oil on the 
baby's nose to help its cold in the head, but the chances 
are we won't remember the date. 

On the 15th of November, 1531, Cowper was born, but 
how few ever stop to think of it ! We go right on with 
our business the same as if Cowper hadn't lived at all, and 
we never wonder if his liabilities were greater than his 
assets, nor whether he married a freckled-faced girl with a 
long nose, or a fat woman with a voice like an old file. 
He has been dead several years, but we don't hear of a 
subscription for the benefit of his widow, nor of circuses 
giving free exhibitions to build him a monument. 

What full-grown man can sit down, put his feet on the 
stove, slant his chair back and not become interested in 
the many beautiful steel engravings on every page of the 
Almanac. How life-like are those goats, all headed one 
way, heads down and feet gathered for a " bunt !" And 



AND TIIE PICTURES. 305 

right below them are the Siamese Twins, hands joined in 
loving embrace and a glad smile of brotherly love cover- 
ing each face. Next below are the lobsters, wildly reaching 
out after the tail of the biggest goat, and bound to get it 
or nobly perish. Further on is the lion, ferociously gazing 
at the boy with the bow and arrow, who is shooting at a 
cent stuck in a stick, and hasn't any one around to warn 
him. Then there is a youth with a harp, just setting out 
to serenade his Sarah Jane, and a wild steer lies in wait 
behind a horse barn to get his horns under somebody's 
vest. 

If you want your children to become statesmen, train 
them up to familiarize themselves with some first class 
Almanac — one with a yellow cover and a blue back. 
T 




AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 




LL said that he was a kind-looking old man, 
having gray hairs and a face over which a 
smile spread itself as he looke'd up at 
at the Court. 

"Were you drunk?" asked 
his Honor. 

" Twee of drie geleden, sloeg 
hij zijn kindje, ten und maanden 
oucl," replied the old man. 

" What ! what did you say ?" 
asked the Court. 

" Met hoyenstaande vraag ein 
hielden zich de vorige week de 
neidenhaaden de Engelsche," replied the prisoner. 
Bijah began to grin. 
The clerk began to grin. 
The audience moved uneasily. 

" Now then," continued his Honor, " the charge is 
drunkenness, and I want to hear what you have to say 
about it." 

" De tegenwoordigheid van afgevaardigden van andere 
Christelijke Vereenigingen," answered the old man in a 
solemn voice. 

"Were you drunk?" demanded the Court in a louder 
tone. 

306 



UK (iOES OUT. 



307 



" Hij werd verleden Maandag tot twalf jarcn gevangeis 
straf verooreeeld," answered the prisoner, also raising bis 
voice. 

" Don't fool with this Court," warned his Honor. 

" Wormjoekjes gebruikt te nebben, terwij wij alle huis- 
gezinnen, waar kinderen zjm, moeten aanraden een doos 
van Kimm's Susan B. Anthony !" replied the prisoner, 
throwing his arms around wildly. 

" Well, I can't fool away any more time on you," said 
the Court in a tone of despair. " Dust out of here and be 
seen no more !" 

And he dusted. 




PnsT to PrsT. 



WHEN THE PANTIES BLOOM. 

" This is a case which can be called, tried and disposed 
of inside of three minutes," remarked his Honor as Charles 
Taylor leaned on the railing and regarded him with an 
appealing look. 

" I couldn't get nothing to do," replied the prisoner. 



308 A YOUNG BUD. 

" I hear you couldn't, but if I were a young man nine- 
teen years old, in sound health, and the fat on my ribs was 
an inch and a half thick, I'd find work enough to pay for 
my board, or I'd slide off the wharf and make business 
for a coroner." 

" I've looked all around," said the prisoner. 
" Well, we won't argue the case. I know that work is 
scarce, but I also know that there are dozens of fat loafers 
around this town who wouldn't turn a grindstone two 
hours for a week's board. You are charged with vagrancy, 
are guilty, and I will give you sixty days. 
That will let you out about the time the 
pansies bloom, and if you can't find work 
then I'll send you back for six months." 
The prisoner shuffled off into the cor- 
ridor, wiping a tear from his nose, and 
was so ugly that Bijah had to draw the 
them Nose and Tear, crowbar at him before he would sit down 
on the water cooler and wait for the Maria to drive around. 

"AND HE WAS SO YOUNG." 

He was only twenty-two, and the bloom of youth on his 
nose had scarcely been eaten into by the rust of manhood's 
tribulation. He was found drunk on'the sidewalk, lying 
on his back, arms folded across his peaceful breast, and the 
pale, cold moon cast a snowy shadow across his face. 

" Ever here before ?" asked the Court. 

" Never." 

" And you feel powerful mean over this ?" 

" I do." 

" And you won't be found in such a situation again ?" 

" Never." 

" Well, be careful of your conduct in the future, young 
man. You are just budding into manhood now, and if 




A KITTEN IN COURT. 309 

you are picked up drunk at twenty-two, what may not 
happen to you at forty-four ? I don't advise you to carry 
an icicle around in your pocket, or to refuse a prescription 
because one of the ingredients is burnt brandy, but as a 
general thing it will be best for you to mind your own 
business, let intoxicating drinks alone, and pay your board 
bill in advance. That is all, sir — there's the way out." 

"S'CATr 
Exclaimed some one in the audience as the name of James 
Kitten was announced. 

His Honor rose up, looked around him, and said : 

" That remark mustn't be remarked again." 

Mr. Kitten had also been drunk. He said some one 
drugged him, but it was pretty evident that he took the 
fluid in the usual way, and that it had no more than the 
usual effect on him. When found by the officer he was 
hanging to a tree-box near the City Hall, and shouting : 

" Lucinda, 'fu don't open that door I'll knockyourhead- 
off!" 

" Mr. Kitten, such conduct is unpardonable in a man of 
your years," said his Honor, " and it will be altogether 
more harmonious for you if you keep away from me here- 
after. I don't remember having met you before, and I 
don't want to see you a second time. I can let you off this 
time, but if your faded form confronts me again within a 
month, I'll make it so lively for you that sitting down on 
a red-hot penny will be a cool position compared to yours." 

" Am I sent up ?" asked the prisoner. 

" No, sir — you are sent out, and you can step along as 
soon as Bijah finds your hat." 

HE WASN'T. 
Just before the " last man " was called, a tall, red-haired 
woman wearing No. 7 shoes and a straw bonnet, and her 



310 THE WIFE OF MCDUFF. 

eyes showering out sparks of anger, attracted the attention 
of the court, and she asked : 

"Is Josephus Andrew McDuff in 
here !" 

Bijah dodged into the corridor, 
made inquiries and then answered in 
the negative. 

" Well, all I want in this world is 
to get my paws on him !" ejaculated 
the female, and she strode out, head 
up, heels striking hard, and her brow 
corrugated until it resembled the 
grooves in a washboard. The boys 
caught the cue and followed her 
around the corner, singing : 




Oh! the wife of McDuff, 
She's tall and she's tuff, 

And she'll make it rough 
For Josephus McDuff. 

Tuff-ruff. 
Mr. & Mrs. McDuff. 




"AP-U-L-S!" 



"AP-U-L-S!" 



51LJE stood in the hall and said so. After hearing his 
(^-> clear, shrill voice, I had no further doubt that he had 
apples to sell. It was a lazy afternoon, and I invited 
him in. 

" Ap-u-l-s !" he shouted as he stepped inside the door. 

" Apples ? yes ; sit down there." 

He sat down. 

" You said you had apples ?" 

" Yes." 

" How do you make ' apples ' out of one apple, and a 
poor old seek-no-further at that — an apple with a worm- 
hole in one side and a bruise on the other?" 

" Want any ap-u-l-s ?" he asked by way of reply. 

" Yes, I do — give me three." 

He picked up the solitary one, looked anxiously around 
the room, and laid it on the table, with the remark : 

" Two for five cents." 

I handed him a nickle and asked for two and a half cents 
back. 

He counted his pennies over three or four times, realized 
that he had got himself into a trap, and he finally handed 
me back the nickel, put his apple into the basket, and rose 
up to go. He went into the newsroom, walked the whole 
length of the floor, and twenty-eight times he said 

311 



312 HE CAME AGAIN. 

" ap-u-l-s ?" to the compositors. Some of the men looked 
with contempt on the solitary representative ; some did 
not raise their eyes from the copy on the case before them ; 
some picked up the apple, turned it round and round, and 
replaced it with a sigh, as if they had hoped for better, 
brighter apples, and had been grievously disappointed. 

The boy passed down into the job room. The foreman 
waved him away ; the feed-boys tried to daub his ears with 
ink ; the men working on the Fourth of July posters told 
him to go hence. He descended to the press room, fell 
over a keg of ink, got banged by one of the presses, and 
limped up stairs, crept into the local rooms, and announced : 

" Ap-u-l-s !" 

" Yes sir — come in and sit down !" 

He sat down on the edge of the chair, as if he did not 
mean to sta}>- long. 

"Have you apples ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Give me six !" 

He laid that poor, lone apple on the table, coughed like 
one in distress, and did not try to look me in the face. 

As I leaned back and regarded him* he picked up the 
apple and slipped away. He went out upon the street. I 
heard him calling and calling, and hours after, as I passed 
the post-office, he stepped out and inquired : 

" Ap-u-l-s ?" 

That same seek-no-further was still there — " only this 
and nothing more." 

The worm-hole and the bruise looked older and more 
serious, but the general condition of the apple remained 
unchanged. 

I lifted it up and looked at it again. It had once been 
a fine apple, with transparent complexion and the proper 
rotundity which apple-eaters love to see. Some accident 



AND WAS BANKRUPT. 



313 



had inflicted the bruise, or some unkindly thumb had 
pressed against it with that feeling which causes men to 
choke each other. 

I did not see him next 'day, nor the next, but on the 
third day he crept up stairs and acknowledged that specu- 
lation in fruit had bankrupted him. The seek-no-further 
had died on his hands, but yet, having some slight hope 
left, he had gone into sassafras-scented toilet soap, trusting 
that the liberal-minded public would give him the prefer- 
ence over the boy with the bad cocoanuts. 




CHIPMUNK, THE WYANDOTTE. 




1STE day a Wyandotte Indian, bare-headed, and 
"having little on except a blanket, came into 
kthe local room. He was one of the few 
members of that tribe left, and had a hut 
somewhere on the river, living alone and 
begging and hunting by turns. 

We had just taken a new man on the staff — a long-haired, 
innocent young man from New England, who was waiting 
for a chance to go out to Africa as a missionary. We all 
knew Chipmunk, the Wyandotte, to be a hardened old 
loafer, but Bank, the new reporter had never seen an 
Indian before. Chipmunk sat down, waiting for some one 
to shell out, and Bank slipped over to me, his heart big 
with sympathy, and inquired : 

" Has any effort ever been made to enlighten and elevate 
these Indians ?" 

" Not that I know of," I answered, " although I am 
ashamed to acknowledge it. That poor Indian there 
knows nothing good, although living in this enlightened 
age, because we are too busy to spare the time to teach 
him. It is some one's duty to take him by the hand and 
look out for his future welfare, but who is it ? I haven't 

the time, and " 

" I feel that it is my duty," replied Bank, interrupting 
me, and I saw tears in his eyes. 

814 



BODILY WELFARE. 



315 



There was a pair of stairs leading to a side street, and 
Bank motioned for Chipmunk to follow him down. The 
"Wyandotte obeyed, and I looked out of the window and 
saw him take a seat on the w T ood-pile, while Bank sat down 
on a barrel and commenced : 

" My dear friend, what are you living for ?" 




" Gimme ten cen.t!" replied Chipmunk, holding out his 
hand. 

" My friend, I am not speaking of your bodily welfare, 
but asking about your soul," continued Bank. " Do you 
know anything about Heaven ? Did anyone ever talk to 
you about the land beyond the skies? Has anyone ever 
sought to instil goodness into your heart?" 

" Chipmunk hard up — want money," replied the Indian. 

" My dear friend, it grieves me to see that you prefer 
bodily comfort to spiritual salvation," continued Bank. 
" Don't you know that you have got to die some day, and 
that it will not be well with you unless you arc prepared ? 
I don't blame you, of course, for you were born a heathen, 
and not one of the thousands around you have taken 
interest enough in your future to enlighten your mind. It 



316 RAISED TO A QUARTER. 

is a burning shame, and I feel as if I had neglected my 
duty, although I only arrived in Michigan a few days 
ago." 

"Gimme two shillin'!" demanded Chipmunk, growing 

ugly. 

We had played a good many tricks on him around the 
office, and although he could speak and understand English 
pretty well, Bank's language was too heavy for him, and he 
probably took it for some new insult. 

" Rather ask me for a testament or a hymn-book," 
replied Bank. " It makes me tremble to think that here, 
in an old settled State, with a dozen churches in sight, in 
this age of Christian religion, I should have come upon a 
human being knowing nothing of the great future — having 
no care except for to-day — never learning that there was 
a hereafter. Why, I can almost imagine myself in the 
heart of Africa !" 

"Don't make laugh of Chipmunk !" warned the Indian, 
looking mighty ugly out of his eyes, and hitching around 
on the woodpile in a nervous manner. 

"My poor, dear benighted heathen, do you suppose I 
could sport with your ignorance ?" inquired Bank. " No, 
my poor friend, I pity you — I sympathize with you — it 
makes my heart bleed when I realize your situation. 
Here, clasp my hand, my dear brother, and say that you 
will be my pupil hereafter — that you will let me guide 
your footsteps in a new and better road ; that " 

Some of the other boys had come in, and hearing us at 
the window Chipmunk made up his mind that we had put 
up a " sell " on him. As Bank was speaking, hand held 
out, the Wyandotte yelled : 

" Waugh ! Whoop ! Make fool of Injun !" and he came 
down upon Bank like a catamount on a rabbit. We hauled 
him oif as soon as possible, but that young man from New 



BUT HE COULDN T STAY. 



317 



England was a sad sight to see. lie had a black eye, a 
bloody nose, had lost a handful of hair, and the interior of 
his watch was rolling around with the sticks of wood. 

"Whoop! fight more — 
^||r jjgpf|| i|| tj lick ten men!" shouted 

II the Indian as we rushed 
him around, but we were 
too many for him. 

Bank couldn't get over 

it. We raised his salary 

to seven dollars per week, 

kept his drawer full of 

complimentary tickets to 

circuses, minstrel shows 

and lectures, made his 

"Waugh! whoop!" work easy and flattered 

his talents, but as soon as his nose got well he discharged 

himself, and I haven't heard of him to this day. 





LET US ALONE. 



S|Ef ANG 'em! 

(i*-, I mean the men who gather together in convention 
and make long-winded speeches, and read six-column 
addresses, and inflict both on the public under the name 
of " Social Science." The Hon. Tenderheart, who has 
made the matter his study for years, gets up and says that 
something must be done to educate and refine the home- 
less, outcast children. He has two or three plans, but he 
doesn't propose to pay out a cent or to take one of the 
street Arabs into his own family. He is willing to furnish 
plans and advance theories, and talk through his nose and 
wipe his weeping eyes, and the street Arabs might as well 
be in Africa for all it profits them. 

Hang the man who gets up and declares that the Ameri- 
can people are being murdered by poorly-ventilated rooms. 
If there is an American in America who doesn't know 
enough to raise a window and let foul air out, or lower it 
to prevent dust from driving in, the fool-killer will soon 
find him. The great mass of people are not going to shiver 
in their beds, or carry an infernal cold in the head to please 
some old rhinoceros who sleeps with his window open. 

Hang the man who is always driving oat-meal and 
Graham flour down the public throat. If anybody likes 
oat-meal let him eat it, and if anybody prefers Graham's 
diet to warm biscuit, there is no law to prevent. But give 
the remainder of us a rest. Don't keep writing, and 

318 



DO YOU HEAR? 



819 



declaring and printing that oat-moal will make a statesman 
out of a fool, or reduce a statesman to the level of an idiot 
if he doesn't cram himself with it three times per day. 

Hang the man who says that carpets breed consumption ; 
that gas is unhealthy; that people shouldn't drink while 
eating ; that stoves are killing us ; that people should go 
to bed at dark and get up at daylight; that marble-top 
tables are as bad as the cholera ; that our boots and shoes 
and coats and dresses are knives and daggers drawing 
blood. 

I want to be let alone, and I know others who want to 
be let alone. If we are galloping to the grave because we 
won't walk three miles before breakfast, or pound sand- 
bags, or swing clubs, it's our own private business, and our 
widows will sooner secure our life insurance money. 




A TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE DEATH OF 
CAPTAIN COOK. 



$& WAS talking the other day with a grandson of one 
*Jg tj of the men who helped eat Captain Cook, the navi- 
gator. History has dealt very unjustly with the native 
gentlemen who sat down to that feast, and I made the 
grandson a solemn promise to set the matter right. 

This man Cook, as near as I can learn, used to keep a 
hotel in London, and was far from being a famous naviga- 
tor. When he landed on the island where his death 
occurred he cocked his hat over his left ear, squirted 
tobacco juice around in a ferocious manner, and put on 
more style than the foreman of a hand-engine at a village 
fire. The natives welcomed him with shouts and smiles, 
told him to make himself at home at the best hotel on the 
island, and all preparations were made to render Mr. 
Cook's stay pleasant and agreeable. It was planned to 
hold an ice-cream festival ; go on a fishing excursion ; 
to have the band out every evening ; to get up a sack-race 
and have a greased pole ; to go and see the city hall and 
drive around the parks, and there was no end to the plans 
of the natives to do the right thing by the white strangers. 
But how did Captain Cook repay these kind intentions ? 
He blustered around as if he owned the whole group of 
islands, called the women fat and the men ugly, scowled 
at the children and swore at the dogs, and the natives 
couldn't please him no how. 

320 



DEGRADING STEVE. 



321 



The native King, a gentleman of culture named Stephen 
Hooper, kept his temper excellently well for a week, but 
then Captain Cook began to go a little too heavy. He 
addressed the King as " Steve," a thing which no human 
being had ever dared do before, and as this was not 
promptly resented he proposed to harness the King to a 
cart and make him draw yams down to the vessel. All 
this was for the purpose of degrading the King in the eyes 




Steve. 



of his subjects. Cook wouldn't have cared two cents if 
his actions had run gold up to 1.26, and brought rents 
down fifty per cent. He complained of the postal con- 
veniences ; of the way the street cars were managed ; tried 
to cut down the fees of hackmen, and King Hooper's 
government would have been knocked higher than a kite 
if he hadn't adopted prompt measures. 

Captain Cook was killed, but it was done in a genteel, 
courteous manner, and as gently as circumstances would 
u 



322 



THE KING'S BANQUET. 



permit. When he fell, his companions hastened away, 
jumping their bills without even a promise to return some 
day and square up. 

Then, when the sailors had sailed away, the natives 
found themselves with one hundred and fifty pounds of 
fresh meat on their hands. The weather was warm, the 
ice supply had given out, and the question arose whether 
they should let all that meat spoil or eat it. Times were 
close, taxes high, and who can blame them for having 
decided to bake the Captain and have the good of him ? 

He was duly baked, and if he could have only realized 
what a gorgeous bread-brown color they got on him he 
wouldn't have laid up a hard thought against the natives. 
King Hooper took advantage of the occasion to make a 
national banquet, and all his friends were invited in. The 
Captain had been baked whole, and he occupied the center 
of the table. The King did the carving, and as one called 
out that he would take an ear, another a wing, another a 
leg, and so forth, the royal carver carved away, and not 




a thing occurred to mar the harmony of the evening. 
When the provisions had been disposed of, the glasses 
were filled and the King himself announced the toast : 
" Here's to the man we have eaten !" 



THOMAS TOMS, DECEASED. 




imSTERAL processions are dreary affairs, 
but I am glad I took a place in the sec- 
ond carriage after the hearse and saw 
the body of my late friend Thomas 
Toms consigned to its last resting place. 
Mr. Toms was not a fool — he was a 
confiding man. 

Up to the age of forty Mr. Toms 
was healthy, fat, good-natured and jovial. Various men 
felt of the fat on his ribs, looked into his smiling face, and 
predicted that he would live to be one hundred years old. 
What started his downfall was reading a book on diet. 
He had always been able to sit down to three square meals 
per day, and to get away with beans, potatoes, pork, mut- 
ton, pie, cake and biscuit, and he had never known a qualm 
of indigestion. The book said that he must eat oat-meal, 
cracked wheat and codfish, if he would be healthy, and 
from that day his house was turned into a hospital. He 
had codfish and oat-meal for breakfast, codfish and cracked 
wheat for dinner, and codfish and Graham bread for sup- 
per. He gave up his lunch, neglected his cider, and 
imagined that he Mas growing healthy. 

Then he bought a book on ventilation. He read that no 
one should sleep in a room without a window open, and 

323 



324 



HE READS OTHER BOOKS. 




he went to bed one night in January with his room prop- 
erly ventilated. He got up in the morning with his throat 
full of shingle nails, his nose blockaded and his eyes full 
of blood. His wife felt even worse, and it was four weeks 
before sage-tea and cough medicine had 
any effect. He sat up with his wife one 
night, and she sat up with him the next, 
and by strict attention to business they 
were finally so far restored to health that 
they could read a work on " The care of 
the body." 

The book announced that feather beds 
were slowly but surely depopulating 
America. They were productive of spinal 
complaint, fever and twenty-one other 
Ventilated. diseases, and Mr. Toms felt his hair stand 
up as he remembered that he had slept on feathers for 
forty years. The feather bed came off, and Mr. Toms and 
his wife reposed on an old straw bed, having straw pillows 
under their heads. After a week Mrs. Toms could not get 
out doors, and Mr. Toms had to walk with a crutch, and 
for the first time in his life he flew mad and said : 
" Mrs. Toms, I am living with a fool !" 
"Mr. Toms, so am I!" she replied, reaching under the 
stove for a flat-iron. 

Mr. Toms stood it very well for a week or two longer, 
and then got hold of a book which stated that every per- 
son who cared to preserve the health should take a cold 
bath every morning. He didn't have a bath-room in his 
house, but he filled a tub, carried it to the stable, and the 
yellow sun of February glanced through a knot-hole and 
fell upon his wrinkled brow as he got out of his clothes 
and stepped into the tub. He shivered and sighed and 
groaned as the ice-water raised goose-pimples on his legs, 



THE INFERNAL IDIOT. 



325 



and he wasn't fairly dressed when he fell down in a con- 
gestive chill, and sixteen of his relatives were telegraphed 
for. 

It was a month or two before Mr. Toms felt like taking 
any more steps to improve his health. Then he read that 
stoves were unhealthy, and he sold his and had a fire-place 
put into the sitting-room. It had a beautiful roar to it, 
especially during gusty weather, and Toms could sit down 
and blister his knees and freeze his back at the same time. 

Mr. Toms walked a mile before breakfast to get an 
appetite ; went to bed at sundown and had the nightmare 
all night; rose with the lark and inhaled all the steam 
from the alley ; washed his feet with borax and his head 
with wintergreen ; wore cork soles in his boots, and a 
sponge in his hat; tried the lift cure until he couldn't 
straighten his spinal column ; pounded sand-bags until his 
fingers were like corn-stalks, and he died in his chair while 
trying the sun-cure. 




J. BROWN, DECEASED. 



fHE door-bell rang, and as I opened the door I saw a 
woman in black on the steps — a woman so tall and 
thin and solemn-looking that I wondered if a hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars would be any inducement for 
her to utter a hearty laugh. 

" I want to talk with you," she whispered, as I stood 
there holding the door. 

"Is it about a pic-nic — the heathen — tracts — a new 
book — a suffering family — cruel husband — disobedient 
son — runaway daughter, or the police driving your cow to 
the pound?" I inquired. 

" I want you to write a book for me," she sighed, wiping 
a tear from her left eye. 

I tried to induce her to put it off until daylight, telling 
her that I couldn't possibly write a book that night and- 
catch over four hours' sleep; but she seemed so deter- 
mined, and her face kept growing so solemn, that I opened 
wide the door and placed her a 
chair. 

She pulled off her black gloves, 
held a crape handkerchief to her 
eyes, and sobbed : 

" He was such a noble man !" 
"You are speaking of — of — yes, 

such a Noble man. ahem — of the late — the late " 

" Of my husband," she sighed. 

326 




HAD TWO EYES. 327 

"And jour husband's name was — was -?" 

"Brown — Jeptlia Brown, although in writing him up 
you may speak of him as J. Brown." 

" J. Brown, deceased. You want that for the title of 
the forthcoming biography, do you ?" 

" Well, that sounds kind o' euphonious and soft, don't 
it?" she asked, brushing away another tear and folding 
her handkerchief. 

" Well, it's a fair title. It isn't as romantic as 'J. Brown ; 
or, the One-eyed Ranger; or as taking as 'Brown the 
Brigand; or, the Waif of the Sea.'" 

" He had two eyes," she solemnly whispered, " and 
though they were sore most of the time, we couldn't truth- 
fully speak of him as one-eyed. And he wasn't a ranger — 
he kept a wood-yard." 

"Well, having secured the title, you may now go on 
and detail his eccentricities — narrate his victories and his 
failures — particularize his habits, hopes and ambitions." 

" He never gave me a cross word !" she sighed, after a 
moment's thought. 

" That's good." 

" Never but once," she added. " One day w T hen he 
came home, and found me cutting up one of his shirts to 
make a tail for Jacky's kite, he scowled and said : ' Mary 
Jane, you'd better trade your brains off* for bran V We 
lived together thirty-eight long years, and that was the 
only cross w T ord, and I know he repented of that forty 
times over." 

" J. Brown, deceased — noble man — kept a wood-yard — 
never gave his w r ife but one cross word — repented of that 
forty times — well, go on, madam." 

" He was a good provider." 

" Good provider — go on !" 

" Never said anything when my relatives came." 



328 she'd die first. 

" Relatives came." 



" Didn't find fault when I was sick." 

" When I was sick." 

" "Was kind to his family." 

" Kind to his family — yes." 

" Well, that's about all," she said, after folding and 
unfolding her handkerchief and trying hard to recall other 
matters. 

" That will be chapter one, madam, and it will read : 
'J. Brown, deceased — noble man — kept a wood-yard — 
never gave his wife but one cross word — repented of that 
forty times — good provider — never said anything when 
relatives came — didn't find fault — kind to his family — sup- 
posed to be in Heaven." 

"That's elegant!" she whispered, almost smiling, "but 
it won't make a very large book, will it V* 

" Madam, I am as blunt as I am homely, and I want to 
ask you a plain question." 
"You — you may." 

"Well, now, instead of going to the expense of this 
book, why don't you get married again ?" 

" Oop !" she shrieked, throwing up her hands. 
" Yes, madam, why don't you find another husband just 
as good as the lamented J. Brown ?" 
" Me marry !" she gasped. 
" Yes, madam. You are not an aged 
person — you have traces of beauty — you 
have a kind heart — you could love." 

"I'd die first!" she gasped, giving me 

a look of horror. 

"Me marry!" " I know better, madam. J. Brown 

was undoubtedly a good man and all that, but because he 

happened to die it cannot be expected that you are to wear 

black, look solemn, and sigh four times a minute for the 




NO, SHE wouldn't. 329 

rest of jour life. No ; some man — some rich widower is 
even now sighing for thee." 

" Is that so ?" she whispered, bending forward. 

" It is true, madam. If you were gaunt, homely, and 
vicious, or fat, freckled, and revengeful, the world would 
let you gallop around in crapes, and say nothing. But as 
it is — as you have beauty, intelligence, and bashfulness, 
you are expected to remarry." 

" What would folks say ?" she asked, actually smiling. 

" Say ! why they expect it ! Only last night I heard it 
remarked that it was strange you did not remarry." 

" Is that so ? Well " 

" I'll go on and write the book if you say so, but how 
much better it would be for you to erect a nice, cosy head- 
stone to J. Brown's memory, put on a tender verse of 
Philadelphia poetry, and then lay off these crapes and let 
some one else love you." 

" Well, you're a writer, and you've been to Chicago and 
Toledo, and of course you know better than I do. I want 
to do what is right, you know." 

" Certainly, madam, certainly. You will always have a 
tender spot in your heart for J. Browm, but when a dozen 
hearts are sighing to love you and be loved in return, and 
a dozen men are waiting for the privilege of buying your 
meat and corsets and bustles and potatoes and ruffs and 
saleratus and silk dresses and corned beef, you can't go 
pegging around with that solemn look on your face." 

" It does seem so, come to think of it," she mused. 

" Of course it does ! Go home, madam — go home and 
look cheerful and feel jolly, and some one will soon seek 
you out." 

She smiled blandly and sweetly as I held the door open, 
and as she reached the gate she remarked : 

" Of course — you — you won't " 



330 NOT BY A JUGFUL. 

" Not a word, madam — I'd be torn to pieces — quartered 
alive first!" 

She shook her finger at me and cantered gayly down 
the street. 

It isn't likely that she will ever marry again. The mel- 
ancholy pleasure of standing beside a lost husband's grave 
and being able to say that he has the most stylish-looking 
headstone in the cemetery cannot be offset by the joys and 
pleasures of domestic life. 




MRS. BRIGGS, MARTYR. 



17 DON'T expect to see another sunrise — not another 



one !" 

I have heard Mrs. Briggs make use of the above expres- 
sion a hundred times or more, and she isn't dead yet. On 
the contrary, she is hale and hearty, and likely to live for 
many years to come. 

Mrs. Briggs lives next door, and we couldn't keep house 
without her. She is fat and Briggs is lean. She is a 
martyr and he is a philosopher. They have no children, 
and if she didn't consider herself an abused person their 
domestic life would roll on as smoothly as a log sailing 
down a canal. 

She came into the house the other day, dropped into a 
chair with an awful bang, and sobbed out : 

" "Why do I live — oh ! why ! If you only knew — if 

yOU !" 

And here her voice left her, and she jammed her apron 
into her eyes, weaved her body to and fro, and a painful 
pause ensued. 

"Here I'm working myself down to a shadder!" she 
finally went on, " while Briggs doesn't seem to care 
whether we have a home of our own or go to the poor- 
house !" 

"We tried to cheer her up, and after a while she admitted 
that she might possibly live a week, but she put on a posi- 
tive look as she added : 

331 



332 



WASTED TO A SHADDER. 



" If you only knew half my troubles you would wonder 
that I don't run crazy and kill somebody!" 

If Briggs comes out to sit on the stoop with me and 
smoke a cigar, we don't have time 
to get along in politics further than 
the administration of James Bu- 
chanan when she heaves in sight and 
exclaims : 

"Diogenes Lysander Briggs, do 
you know that you haven't fixed 
that gate yet!" 

He stops in the midst of his dis- 
cussion of the Dred Scott decision 
to say that he'll be along pretty soon, 
but she is not satisfied with that. 
" Oh, yes ! you'll come along, you 
i^Mff/Iill i^ w ^ " You've said that a thousand 

^*-p iP' v^r times, and I know just what depend- 
As she thinks She is. ence can be placed on your saying ! 
It's a shame — a burning shame — that I'm being driven 
to my grave by your neglect and shiftlessness !" 

She retires behind the corner, and he goes on with his 
argument as if he had not heard her. 

If I drop into his house to discuss the European ques- 
tion with him she seems quite happy for five or six minutes, 
but then suddenly commences to wipe her eyes, and soon 
sobs out : 

" I wish people knew just what I suffer !" 
Briggs does not even change countenance or drop a 
word, and in about one minute more his wife remarks : 

" You needn't make any fuss over me, but just let the 
neighbors come in and see the corpse, and then bury me !" 
He keeps right on with his story, and she finally jumps 
up and exclaims : 




READY TO DIE. 



333 



" Did you hear mo, Mr. Brigga ! Did you hear me say 
that the rising sun will find me a corpse — a broken-hearted 
corpse !" 

" Don't you feel well ?" he inquires with sudden interest. 

" Don't I feel well ! Great shiners ! how can you ask 

such a question ! \Here I am, on the verge of the grave, 

and you pretend you can't see it ! Oh ! Diogenes Lysan- 

der Briggs, I'd hate to 
stand in your shoes when 
the judgment day arrives !" 
" If you think you need 
'em I'd take some liver 
pills, and as I was saying 
I think that no European 
nation is prepared to meet 

the question ," he goes 

on in the same even tone, 

As She Really Is. and she jumps Out of the 

back door to find some sympathizing neighbor. 

Briggs is good-natured, and perhaps inclined to be lazy, 
but if he were otherwise she'd kill him within a week. 
Her words roll off his mind without leaving a loot-print 
behind, and he feels that it his lot to bear and forbear. 
Once she sent four miles for him to come and see her die. 
He was fishing in a creek, and though there was a splendid 
show for him to catch another bass by waiting half an 
hour he folded his line and rode back with the messenger. 
As he entered the house she greeted him with : 

" Didn't I tell you this morning I should be a corpse 
before night?" 

" Seems zif you did," he mused, deliberately drawing out 
his knife and twist of plug, and slowly cutting off" a piece. 

"Yes, your poor suffering wife is going to find rest at 
last !" she went on. " The world will call it dropsy or 




* 



334 BOUND TO BE SORROWFUL. 

liver complaint or something, but I know and you know 
what has brought me to this !" 

He stood up beside the fire-place, hands crossed behind 
him, and for a moment his face expressed sorrow and 
and anxiety. Then he looked out of the window, put on 
his hat, and said : 

" I s'pose I ought to go and put that calf into the barn !" 

" Caf ! caf !" she shrieked, sitting up in bed — " is a red 
yearling caf more to you than your dying wife ?" 

She was doing her own work next day, and her weight 
is constantly increasing as her years spin out, but yet she 
is a great martyr, and she couldn't be happy if she had the 
front seat at a circus. 



* 




HE FELT DOLLAROUS. 




£N" old chap and his wife, going East from their home 
in Iowa to visit friends, had to halt in Detroit on 
account of the wife's illness. They went to a hotel, and 
for the first day or two the husband didn't complain of the 
cost, but when his wife grew worse, and a doctor was called 
and a nurse employed, he began to hang on to the dollars 
which were demanded. On the fifth day the doctor looked 
serious and said that the woman would probably die. The 
husband consulted with the hotel clerk and with a freight 
agent, and going back to his wife he leaned over her 
and sobbed : 

" Oh ! Sarah Jane ! you mustn't die here !" 

" I don't want to leave you, Philetus," she replied, " but 
I fear that my time has come." 

"Don't! oh! don't die here !" he went on. 

" If my time has come I must go," she said. 

" Yes, I suppose so, but if I could only get you back 
home first I'd save at least forty dollars on funeral expenses, 
and forty dollars don't grow on every bush !" 

335 



HOW TO ACT IN CASE OF FIRE. 



tHERE are very few people who can keep cool in case 
they discover a fire, and this is the reason why more 
fires are not put out in their incipient stages, before any 
great damage is done. 

In case you are walking along the street and discover a 
chimney burning out, make up your mind that the whole 
house has got to go unless your own individual exertions 
prevent. Therefore, jerk the gate off its hinges, kick the 
front door in on the astonished family and yell "fire!" 
Your first yell needn't be louder than the common Indian 
war-whoop, but after the first you must exert yourself in 

] g\ grand efforts to beat any 
i ' man in that town who 

10/ 



ever yelled over a burn- 
ing chimney. The oc- 
cupants may desire an 
explanation as the front 
door falls in and you 
leap over it, and begin 
to throw the chairs around. There 
is no set answer to repeat, but most 
most men manage to say : 
"Fire — fire — your house — get out — fire — hurry — blazes! 
fire — hang it — fire — fire !" 

They will generally accept the explanation without argu- 
ment, and you can go ahead and rescue the contents of the 

336 




ABOUT SAVING THINGS. 



337 



house. Always commence on the parlor ornaments first. 
If you haven't time to save anything but a chromo, half 
of a marble-top stand, and the head of a piece of statuary, 
you don't know how far these things will go toward set- 
ting the burned-out family to house-keeping again. The 
windows were made to throw things through. If you can 
fling all the ornaments out, wrench the sofa to pieces, and 
break the legs off of the chairs, you can consider you have 
saved everything in the parlor worth saving. If there is 

a stove in there, tip it over as 
you rush to save the bedding 
and other furniture. Don't 
throw a bed from the chamber 
window ; nothing will break a 
feather bed all to pieces as 
quick as a fall. Take them on 
your back and carefully carry 
them from two to four blocks 
away and deposit them gently 
on a doorstep. 

But the case is different with 
crockery, looking-glasses and 
clocks; you can heave them 
out on the walk with perfect 
confidence that they won't even 
get a flaw. Deal gently with 
flat-irons and boot-jacks. Don't 
try to save a whole bedstead, 
but wrench it to pieces, and 
throw three or four slats out, 
Bureaus are cumbersome arti- 
cles to handle, and it's best to divide them in halves with 
an axe, and throw down the portions separately. 

I had forgotten to say that it is positively necessary for 
v 




Handle 'em Gently. 

and then grab the bureau 



338 they'll remember you. 

you to yell " fire !" twice per second, from the time you 
kick the door in until the fire is out, or the house burned 
down. If you didn't do this, some of the family might 
forget that the house was on fire and make arrangements 
to go visiting, or put on dried apples to stew, or go to set- 
ting emptyings. 

An ordinarily cool man will clear a house of all worth 
saving in about fifteen minutes, especially if he has a little 
help. If the house goes for it, the family will not fail to 
remember that but for you they might have been roasted 
alive ; and if the flames are subdued, they'll pick up the 
looking-glass frames, drawer knobs, pitcher handles, and 
chair legs, and move back in with hearts full of gratitude 
that you, noble hero, through your coolness and self-pos- 
session, saved all that was worth saving. 




O 



THE COLONEL'S LETTER. 




£"HE mail routes west of Omaha were but 
poorly looked after before the days of the 
Pacific railroad, but the few post-offices were 
highly prized by miners and traders, enabling 
them to hear from civilization at least once 
or twice per year. 

We had built up quite a little town about 
twenty miles from Denver, and it was decided 
to establish a post-office in a saloon and hire some one to 
brino- and carry a semi-weekly mail. We made no appli- 
cation to the government for a post-office, but were going 
into this arrangement merely for our own accommodation. 
Our letters coming from the States were addressed to Den- 
ver, and those we sent from " Paradise " bore the Denver 
post-mark. 

We made up a list of those who would pay fifty cents 
weekly, collected the first installment and hired a half- 
breed to act as mail-carrier. Everything worked all right, 
and " Paradise " would have been happy but for a giant 
miner called " Colonel Pick." He was down for fifty cents 
per week with the rest of us, and when the first mail came 
in he called and demanded a letter. 

"None here for you, Colonel," answered the man who 
had assumed the duties of postmaster. 

• 339 



340 



EXPLANATION WANTED. 



The Colonel went away growling, and was on hand next 
mail-day.' Several letters were received and distributed, 
and when informed that there was no letter for him he 
exclaimed : 

" Didn't I pay my fifty cents with the rest ? Haven't I 
as much right to git a letter as any of 'em ?" 

The postmaster endeavored to explain to him, but the 

Colonel kicked an 
empty whisky barrel 
across the room and 
went back to his log 
shanty on the hill- 
side. The third mail 
came in and he was 
on hand, two revolv- 
ers in his belt and a 
large bowie-knife run 
down behind his coat- 

, For "Paradise." Collar. 

" Ary letter for Colonel Pick ?" he inquired of the post- 
master. 

" No, Colonel — nothing for you," answered the man. 

" You are a wolf and a liar !" shouted the Colonel. 
" I've paid my money and I want a letter !" 

" But there is none for you," replied the man. " I'd be 
glad if " 

" Don't talk to me !" roared the Colonel. " Isn't this a 
post-office ?" 

" Yes." 

" Well, what's a post-office fur ?" 

" To receive and distribute mail." 

" Yes, and where's my mail ? What 'd I pay fur if I 
hain't goin' to git any letters ?" 




A BETTER WAY. 341 

The postmaster was trying to explain, when the Colonel 
took the whole mail in his paw and walked off, saying that 
no crowd of men could humbug him. lie wouldn't give 
the letters up, but he had some good traits about him, and 
I was sorry when " Paradise " turned out and hung him to 
a limb to maintain the sanctity of the United States postal 
rules. We might have shot him through the leg, and then 
argued with and enlightened him. 




THE BALL AT WIDOW McGEE'S. 



JHE widow DeShay gave a ball. It was a grand ball, 
with four musicians seated on the window sills, and 
an American flag festooned across one end of the room. 
She invited all the neighbors except the widow McGee, 
and Tomcat alley wondered how this new insult would be 
received. It was a cold cut. It was a terrible slight. 

The widow McGee sat in her parlor and looked out on 
the cold new moon, and the pile of old oyster cans, and 
two freight trucks, and she planned. She felt that she had 
been wounded, and she knew that she must strike back if 
she wanted to preserve the respect and admiration of Tom- 
cat alley. She planned for a grand ball — an affair which 
should outshine the DeShay ball as emphatically as the 
glitter of pure gold dims the lustre of an Arctic overshoe. 

On the third day after that the denizens of Tomcat alley, 

Big Jack corners and Sulky avenue were astonished and 

gratified at being handed written invitations which read : 

GRAND BAWL. 

The cumpany Of yureself & laidy is Respectubly invoited to 
Be presint at 

A GRAND BAWL, 

To be Given by the Widow McGee 
Wensday eve. 

"When "Wednesday evening arrived the "Pilgrim's Roost" 
was all ready for guests. The widow McGee had three 
American flags festooned on the walls, two kegs of beer in 

342 



REVENGE ! REVENGE ! 343 

the shed, palm-leaf fans for all hands, and the corps of 
musicians occupied a raised platform at one end of the 
room. Uncle Jake was there with his fiddle, to lead the 
orchestra; Old Tom was therewith his bass-viol; Cleve- 
land Henry beat the drum ; Aunt Betsy beat the cymbals ; 
baby Anna pounded a pan ; Honest Boy struck the tri- 
angle, and the widow herself sat down to a rented piano 
and played notes at random. 

As the guests were ready to take the floor the widow 
stepped forward, smiled benignly, and remarked : 

" I likes to see everybody take comfort. Chicago Ned 
and Mary Jane Filkins will lead off, and we'll be happy 
yet." 

The music struck up, and Toledo Infant clasped hands 
with Lena La York, Cincinnati Sunrise bowed to Maud St. 
Clair, and the Iron Duke smiled on Mother King and went 
whirling around. 

It was a grand dance. The windows were open so that 
the widow DeShay could hear the sounds of merriment, 
and Tomcat alley folks said to Sulky avenue residents that 
the ball would be remembered by future generations. 

Just as the widow McGee had struck high " C " with 
her melodious voice, and while the triangle was trying to 
drown fiddle and drum, in marched the police. Some one 
put the lights out, everybody yelled, and when a dead calm 
fell upon the ball-room six countesses, four dukes, and 
three lords, the widow McGee and the band of musicians, 
were handcuffed and ready to march out. The place 
which knew them before didn't know them any more, and 
no sound broke the monotonous tramp or march but the 
shrill voice of the widow McGee crying out: 

" 'Tis owin' to the widy DeShay !" 



THE SUMMER VACATION. 



DIDN'T want to go ; give me credit for that. But, 
when July came, butter melted in the ice-box, flies 
were as thick as dust, vegetation was parched and 
business dull, my wife began to talk of the green trees, 
cool country breezes, pure milk, fresh butter, purling 
brooks and skipping lambs, and I agreed that the trip 
would be good for our health. 

She said it wouldn't cost us a dollar to get ready, and 
then went on and used up eighty-five dollars. 

Our house was turned inside out for a week, and regu- 
larly every night I dreamed of climbing trees, drinking 
barrels of milk, chasing babbling brooks and ordering 
strawberries and cream by the wagon load. 

Got away at last, and only lost one satchel and two 
bundles getting to the train. 

Other twenty-three bundles all safe. 

Arrived in country at noon, and soon found a quiet 
retreat with an old lady, who took us in through pity. 

At $12 per week. 

It was an ancient farm-house, moss on the roof, roses 
climbing over the door, and every corner shady and cool. 

My wife went into raptures over a bob-tailed hen and a 
yellow calf, and as I stood and gazed at the smiling lawn 
I agreed with her that it was a good thing to come out into 
the country and gain seven pounds of flesh per week. 

344 



COW-BELL SEKENALE. 



345 



In the afternoon I went out and rolled on the green 
grass. Stuck an old rusty fork into my leg and quit roll- 
ing. Got out again about sundown to see the lowing kine 
come home. They consisted of one hog and a cross-eyed 
lamb, but I don't know as the old lady was to blame. 

Got to bed early, having planned to rise with the lark, 
and go out and behold the dewy mcadow r s sparkling in the 
sun, and to hear the joyful whistle of the merry plowboy. 




Thk Smlling Lawn. 

Got up at eleven o'clock to kill mosquitos. 

Got up half an hour later to kill 'em over again. 

Sixteen cows, each one with a bell on, got in front of 
the house at midnight and called upon us to shake off the 
shackles of peaceful slumber. 

Shook 'em. 

Arose at tw T o o'clock to raise the wandow. 

Arose half an hour later to put it down again. ft 

Slept half an hour and then got up and made a speech 
to the mosquitos, who received it with quiet but earnest 
applause. 

AVhen morning came we w r ent forth in the rain to see 
the sparkling meadows and hear the plow T boy, but we saw 
not — neither did we hear. 

The old lady 6aid that the rain insured a good day for 
fishing, and I arranged to go over to Lover's Lake in the 



346 



GOES FISHING, ETC. 



afternoon and catcli a week's supply of fish. I tried to 
hire a horse and wagon to come over to the lake about 
sundown and load up the fish, but none were to be had. 

I found Lover's Lake to be a beautiful sheet of water, 
with every appearance of good fishing, and could hardly 
>£, jBHII^ control my impatience to begin the 

work of death against the trout. 
^_ Finally begun. 

There seemed to be a 

great many fish around, 

but they had just come 

home from a festival and 

| didn't feel hungry. 

Fished for four hours, 
_ and then stopped, so as to 
- leave a few fish for the 
farmers around there. 

Sat down on the veran- 
dah after supper to enjoy 
s=gi._ the balmy twilight. Had 



^ the company of 245,362,- 
895 mosquitos, six bats, 
one toad, a snake, and black bugs enough for a mince-pie. 

Went to bed early and dreamed that I was an apple- 
blossom, but hadn't only fairly bloomed out before I had 
to get up and drive a bat out of the room. 

Got up at eleven to drive cows away. 

Got up at midnight to " s'cat" a cat. 

At two to fight mosquito^. 

At daylight to greet the rosy morn. 

When we got home at the end of a week my wife sat 
down on the step while I unlocked the door, and said she : 

" Darling, I was an idiot." 

And I said : " Ditto." 




'Lovers' Lake. 



THE INDIAN QUESTION. 



/Jxltff Y plan for solving the Indian problem is not the 
4=b§4^ offspring of a moment's thought. On the contrary, 
I have given it deep meditation and prolonged study. 

In the first place, place the Indian on a nice, clean board 
about seven feet long, and fasten him there. Then cut 
him into three pieces. A cross-cut saw is a very good tool 
to use for cutting an Indian up, but when there is none 
handy use a hand or buck-saw. I saw 'em in two at the 




points shown in the above cut. A man who has any ambi- 
tion to push work will saw up eighteen Indians per day 
and make a good job in every case. 

Then carefully rinse the pieces in a barrel, taking care 
to pick out any saw-teeth which may have broken off. If 
the washing process is not placed in the hands of a respon- 
sible person half of a good-sized Indian may be wasted by 
improper handling. 

The ground should have been previously prepared by 
cross-plowing, dragging and manuring. A rich, deep loam 
is preferable. Indians cannot be planted by machinery, 

347 



348 



AN AUGUST ASSEMBLY. 



but the modus operandi is for one to go ahead with a spade 
and make the excavation, another follow with the meat, 
and the third to drop copies of " Hiawatha " *n with the 
seed and cover all. Plant in June, in the full of the moon. 
As soon as the plants begin to sprout plow between the 
rows with a light plow, and then go through with a hoe 
and heap up dirt around each hill in order to retain the 




'Sprouts." 



moisture. But little dependence can be placed on the first 
crop, and many planters go over the field with a mowing 
machine in August and clear the ground, leaving the roots 
to start again in the spring. If the crop is allowed to 
mature, gather just before the first frosts and run 'em 
through a threshing machine. 



AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. 



lolfl 5TU can sympathize with you," said Bijah, speaking to 
??(^liis Honor, "for I've been there. The women 
always tear and rear and pitch when spring comes, and 
you may jaw and jaw, yet you can't stop 'em. I know just 
how your house is. The stoves are down, straw all over, 
fresh paint on the doors, a white washer daubing away, 
children playing horse with the looking-glass, and I pre- 
sume to say that you ate your breakfast this morning on 
the bottom of the stove-boiler and drank your coffee out 
of the mustard bottle." 

His Honor heaved a deep sigh as he looked from the 
dent in his hat to the hurts on his knuckles, and Bijah 
continued : 

" It isn't likely that I shall ever marry again, but if I do, 
and my wife cleans house oftener than once in five years, 
I'll leave her — yes, leave her, even if it's in the dead of 
winter and potatoes are $50 per cord and wood is $2 
apiece !" 

THAT BOY. 

" This boy's been breakin' winders," announced Bijah 
as he handed out a lad whose nose had enough dirt on it 
to start a corn-field, and whose bare legs could be seen in 
half a dozen places through sad rents in his trousers. 

" That's an awful charge, bub," remarked the Court, 
putting on a severe look. 

349 



350 



A SOLEMN PROMISE. 



" I never went for to do it !" replied the boy, a sob in 
his throat. 

" But the deed was done, and it is my duty to inflict the 
punishment — such punishment as will be a solemn warn- 
ing to all other boys within two hundred miles of Detroit." 
"I didn't mean to, you bet I didn't!" sobbed the boy; 
" went to throw like that — and it slipped like that — and 
boo-hoo-hoo the window !" 

" "What an awful thing it is to see one so young charged 
with such a crime," continued the Court after a long pause. 
"And yet I hardly want to sentence you to the gallows." 
" Oh ! mister !" wailed the rat, drawing 
up his bare foot and rubbing his other leg 
with it, " lemme off this time — this one 
time — never throw another stun — 
never sass anybody — never — oh ! lem- 
me off!" 

" I might probably do it, but if I 
do I shall carry your name in my 
wallet, and the very first time I hear 
of your cutting up I shall send eight 
policemen to capture you. Be care- 
ful my son — be very circumspect in 
all your future actions, for you are 
^^ resting in the shadow of the gallows, 
v^s as it were." 

" I will — I will — I won't even throw 
at a goat no more !" exclaimed the lad, and Bijah let him 
out of the side door. 




"KINDER LOOKIN\" 
" Do you answer to the name of C. Merrifield Scott ?" 
inquired the Court as Bijah pushed out another. 
" Yaas." 



lookin' around. 3<31 

He was a young man of four-and-twenty, and the " duds" 
on his back weren't enough in bulk to make a good-sized 
mop. His hair was down to his eyes, there was coal-dust 
and dirt all over him, and he moved around with slow and 
solemn step. 

" Well, sir," resumed the Court, " you are charged with 
vagrancy. The warrant says you have no home, no occu- 
pation, and that you couldn't buy a lemon if they sold 'em 
at a cent a million. Straighten up, look me in the eye, and 
give me your candid opinion about it." 

" Thar' hain't no work," drawled the prisoner. 
" Have you sought for work ?" 
"Yaas." 
" "Where ?" 

" Waal, I've been kinder lookin' all around town." 
" And your efforts have not been crowned with the suc- 
cessfulness of success ?" 
" Naw." 

" Mr. Scott, continued his Honor, as he fastened his 
teeth into an apple and drew a whole 
side away at once, " suppose that Daniel 
Boone had kinder looked around in his 
young days — where would Kentucky 
be now ?" 

" I dunno," sighed the prisoner. 
" Suppose, Mr. Scott, that Storey, of 
"Kinder Lookin'." the Chicago Times, or Sam Bowles, of 
the Springfield Republican, or Dana, of the New York Sun, 
had spent their early days in sitting on a hydrant and 
watching the operations of a pile-driver — would they ever 
have had half a dozen libel suits at once, and been able to 
pay a coal bill on sight ?" 

" I tell you work is mighty skerce !" exclaimed the pris- 
oner, seeming to be annoyed at the questioning. 




352 



NOTHING IN SPIRITS. 



" Well, I'll put you where you'll have a steady job for 
six months. I make your sentence for that time, and if 
they are an economical set there they won't try to wash 
you up, but will just take your hide off and raise a new 
man." 



A MEDIUM. 

A colored woman named Crosby sailed out and spite- 
fully remarked : 

" I demand my discharge." 

" This isn't the office where they sell demands," replied 
the Court. 

" But I want to go." 

" Well, we'll both be ready to go directly. I understand 
that you are a medium — tell for- 
tunes, see spirits, and so forth ?" 

" De same." 

" And I further understand that 
you struck another col- 
ored woman with a poker, 
kicked in a door, and 
raised Cain over a whole 
neighborhood." 

" Webber did, sah." 

" But here are two offi- 
cers and three witnesses." 

" Dey is liars, sah !" 

" Well, they may be, 
but I'll take the chances. 
Has any spirit whispered 
to you that I'm going to send you up for thirty days ?" 

" No, sah." 

" That shows what dependence you can put on spirits. 
Take her away." 




AND THE BOYS SANG. 



353 



" I'll holler !" she said, clutching the railing. 
" You mean that you will scream V 
" Yes, sah." 
" And raise a row ?" 
" Yes, sah." 

" Well you just try it on, and if I don't put a sticking 
plaster over your mouth I'm no Court !" 
She looked. 
He looked. 

And she didn't dare do it. 
"When the Maria rolled away the boys sang : 

"We've traveled this wide world all over, 
And had piles of sorrow and sport; 
But we never laid eyes on a human 
Who'd successfully bluff this 'ere court." 

W 





JEEMS. 



(flTST like a boy, lie had been playing 
|§ around all the morning. Other boys 
were getting ready for Sunday school, 
and had their hair combed down 
"^P?§=^l behind their ears and a religious look 
gg|^ in their eyes, while this boy was draw- 
lg§;=E ing a cart up and down the walk and 
encouraging peace-loving dogs to as- 
sault each other and still further disturb the harmony of 
the pleasant morning. At length his mother walked down 
to the gate, caught sight of him half a block away, and 
she shouted : 

"Young m-a-n !" 

He rose up from his seat on the walk and brushed away 
at his pants as he turned his eyes toward her. 

" Young man, you'd better stir your stumps !" she 
shouted. 

He stirred them. Traveling half the distance which 
separated them, he halted and inquired : 
" What yer want ?" 

" What do I want?" she screeched; " I want youV 
" I'm here, hain't I ?" 

" Yes, you are out here, cantering around, and yelling 
and howling on the Lord's day. It's a wonder to me that 
Providence hasn't put some great affliction on you !" 

354 



BOUND TO DO IT. 355 

" Biles ?" he queried. 

" Biles ! Wuss than biles ! Now you come in here !" 

" What fur ?" 

" Come in here and get ready for Sunday school !" 

"I hate ter." 

" Come here, young man !" 

He slowly approached her, and as he came within reach- 
ing distance she seized him by the hair, shook him right 
and left, and remarked : 

" Hate to, do you ! Want to be a heathen, eh ! Don't 
love the Lord, eh!" 

" Yas — oh ! — oh, goll !" he yelled. 

" "Well, I thought you did ! Now stump into the house 
and get ready for Sunday school. I've been thinking over 
your case lately, and I've made up my mind to lick you 
to death and hang your hide on the fence if you don't get 
religion and be somebody !" 

And she hauled Jeems into the house, gave him a push 
through the hall, and exclaimed : 

" I don't care for the neighbors ! It's my duty to save 
you from fire and brimstone, and I'll do it if I have to 
break every bone in your body !" 




SOME BALD-HEADED MEN. 



IHJ^T used to make my mouth water to sit and look down 
rfE. upon Mr. Garrison's bald head. It was as smooth 
as a book-canvasser's speech, shone like a new britan- 
nia tea-pot, and the little veins could be traced like water- 
courses on a big map of the United States. 

Every bald-headed man has his forte. Mr. Garrison's 
forte was in packing a ward caucus. It would have filled 
your soul with joy to see him drop in on a man who wanted 
to be a delegate. Mr. Garrison had his slate made up, and 

it was his business to get 
all other aspirants out of 
the way. After wringing 
the man's hand until the 
bones cracked he would 
speak about the weather, 
the crop prospects, the 
death of the last old pio- 
neer, and would suddenly 
inquire : 

"Oh, by the way, do 
you want to be a delegate 
^^^ to the city convention ?" 
The man would faintly 
admit that such was the case, as he wanted a public sewer 
in the upper end of the ward. 

356 




sX^iPfiliPi 



X^ 



Garrison's Head. 



AND MR. HUMPHREY. 



357 



"Egad! good!" Garrison would exclaim. "I've just 
fixed for that ! You'll have a sewer there in less than a 
month ! Just keep right on attending to your daily work, 
and I'll fix the sewer business. You have no time to fool 
away with politics — you are too honest, too conscientious 
for a politician." 

The would-be delegate had to wilt, and Garrison's slate 
was left without a scratch. I happened to be around when 
he was thrown from his buggy and fatally injured. His 
mind wandered as the coroner bent over him, and he 
whispered : 

"Vote the straight ticket, and beware of canards set 
afloat by the opposition !" 




Part of the Programme. 

Mr. Humphrey had a head which any boy would have 
willingly given a jack-knife to look at, and Mr. Humphrey's 
forte was enforcing family discipline. It isn't every father 
that can make nine children stand around the house as 
children should, but Mr. Humphrey could, and lie never 
used the rod. lie had a regular programme, which 



358 AND THEN KNOX. 

covered all emergencies. If Henry and John had a fight, 
Henry was headed up in a barrel and rolled around the 
woodshed, and John was hung upon a hook to meditate. 
If Augustus was " sassy " he was made to sit on the picket 
fence for a certain length of time, and if Jane scorched the 
meat her teeth were rubbed with tar until she was a whole 
week getting her natural taste again. 

I was in there one day when Mr. Humphrey was help- 
less with a broken leg. The children had taken advantage 
of the occasion, and he asked me as a special favor to bar- 
rel up John ; hang William on the hook ; tie Susan under 
the penstock ; make Anthony sit on a lump of ice ; crook 
Charles over the saw-horse ; fill Amanda's mouth with 
cotton, and bend Washington around an apple tree until 
he formed an unbroken circle. 

Mr. Knox was bald-headed, and Mr. Knox's forte was his 
dignity and bearing. If a beggar rang his door-bell and 
asked for cash or old clothes Mr. Knox would swell out, 
put on the look of the big lion in a menagerie, and inquire : 

" Sir ! sir ! sir ! do you know who I am, sir !" 

Then he would swell some more, brush his hair up, 
cough loudly, and continue : 

" Sir ! you must have made a mistake, sir !" 

The beggar would be only too glad to get away, and Mr. 
Knox would go in and boss his family around. He had 
his wife and children as scared of him as rabbits. When 
one of the children's toes were out the wife would say : 

" J. M. Knox, Esquire, your son is in need of a new pair 
of shoes, and should you deign to purchase them, you will 
earn the everlasting gratitude of one who is not worthy to 
touch the hem of your garment." 

Canterbury was right the other way, though his head 
had the same appearance of oiled paper. His forte was 
his politeness and his retiring disposition. He fell over- 



THE MODEST CANTERBURY. 



359 



board once while riding on a steamboat, and long before 
the small boat picked him up he called out : 

" Gentlemen, believe me, I'm extremely sorry that this 
thing has occurred, and I promise you that it shall not be 
repeated !" 

When he was once called on to make a public speech he 
fainted away and fell over a chair, and as soon as recover- 
ing consciousness he humbly apologized to the chair and 
promised better conduct for the future. 




The Modest Canterbury. 

When he was dying and they asked him if he had any 
choice of pall-bearers he replied that they had better hold 
the funeral after dark, so as not to interfere with any one's 
working hours. If he went to Heaven I presume he 
crowded himself into a corner and held his boots in his 
lap, so as not to be in any one's way. 



THE LAST COACH. 




HERE will come a day when the old vehicle 
will roll into the village for the last time. 
The inn-keeper will stand on the verandah to 
welcome the passengers, and the village boys 
will leave kites, marbles and hoops to gather 
in a circle around the big-bodied vehicle and 
gaze timidly at the strangers who leave it. 
The driver will have a tear in his eye as he 
leaves the box with the knowledge that he is never to 
mount it again, and the passengers, no matter how thick 
the dust on their garments, or how rudely they have been 
jolted, will heave a sigh of regret as they step down 
and catch sight of the passenger coaches standing ready to 
usurp the rights and privileges of the old vehicle which 
has safely carried its thousands. 

Up hill and down — over bridges — around the turns in 
the highway — cold, heat, rain or shine, and at last steam 
has won the race, and the old coach goes under the tavern 
shed to decay and fall to pieces. The faithful horses find 
other work, the driver is lost in the busy throng, and only 
the remembrance is left. 

The world is pushing these old things back to make 
room for new ones, and the new ones are the best. Yet, 
the boy who looked up from the town pump with admiring 

360 



time's dust. 



361 



gaze at the dignified master of a coach and four, whose 
whip-lash could pick a fly off the ear of either leader, and 
whose word on law, politics or finance was never ques- 
tioned, even by the talented town constable — this boy has 
a right to feel a bit sad, as a man, to see the dust of Time 
settling thickly upon the memories of childhood. 




MR. LEON ST. JOHNS 






J3~E day when a dozen of us were gathered at the 
Colonel's ranch, on what was then called " The Trail 
of Despair," Nevada, the stage halted to drop a passenger. 
We lived in tents and shanties, wore a shirt for six weeks 
at a time, lived on bean soup and " salt horse," and as 
Quincy Jack remarked : " We couldn't chaw grammar for 
shucks." 




"Gentlemen!" 



The passenger was dressed to kill, carried a cane and 
smoked a cigar, had on yellow kids and fine boots, and the 
men regarded him with more amazement than they would 
have displayed had a dozen elephants appeared on the hill. 

As he entered the hotel, so called, which was merely a 

362 



WORSE AND WORSE. .!(i-'. 

long, low building, ho looked from one miner to another 
and finally asked : 

" Gentlemen, where is the landlord ?" 

" Gentlemen /" screamed an old miner named " Oxalic 
Acid," springing to his feet. 

" Gentlemen !" echoed " Old Sorrow," whirling around 
in his chair. 

" GENTLEMEN !" shrieked " Turkey Bob," putting on 
a look of awful amazement. 

The stranger didn't seem to know what to make of such 
a greeting, but he continued : 

" Beg pardon, but I desire to tarry here and refresh the 
inner man." 

" Desire /" yelled Jack Law r rence from behind the stove. 

" Refresh !" screamed the old man Davis from behind 
a table. 

" THE INKER MAN !" squeaked little hump-backed 
Bob, raising his hands in horror. 

There was a long pause. 

The stranger began pulling at his kids, and said : 

" Really, this is incomprehensible." 

The w r ord " incomprehensible " struck every man with 
the force of a cannon ball. Big Blue Bottle, the oldest 
miner on the claim, fairly turned pale, and " Sal's Brother," 
another old digger, leaned back in his chair and whispered 
that he wouldn't live three weeks. 

You could have heard a pin drop. 

Then, with an awful look on his face, Big Blue Bottle 
stepped forward and .said, almost in a whisper: 

" Stranger, who be you 1" 

" I'm a traveler, and I had intended to halt here and 
secure refreshments." 

"Refreshment? ! hear that!" whispered Sandy Sam to 
old Johnson. 



3G4 



DEAD SILENCE. 




'Refreshments! 



"Refreshments!" echoed "Sal's Brother," wiping his 
eyes as if there was smoke between him and the stranger. 
" Isn't this a ranch ?" demanded the 
stranger as he looked around. " It 
surpasses my comprehension that you 
maintain such an attitude to one in 
search of the sustenance of life." 

That speech floored the men. Old 
Blue Bottle turned as white as snow 
and gasped out : 
" Sur — sur — surpashus !" 

" Attitood !" whispered the Deacon, sliding off the 
bench. 

" Sus — sus — suste — te !" stammered an old Califor- 

nian, dropping the plug of 
tobacco from his hand. 
There was silence. 
" Stranger !" commenced 
Big Blue Bottle in a hoarse 
voice, " what mought be your 
name ?" 

" My name ?" replied the 
young man, taking a whiff at 
his cigar — " my name is Leon 
St. Johns." 

" W-hat !" screamed the old 
man. 

" Leon St. Johns," repeated the stranger, eyeing his 
questioner. 

Dead silence again. 

" Stranger, how are you heeled?" finally asked the old 
man. 

« How— what ?" 

" Have you got any weepon ?" 




'Attitood!' 



ON THE LEVEL. 



365 



" Yes — a revolver." 

"And you'll shoot at me — five paces — count one and 
commence firing!" 

" N-no — I don't want to hurt you," replied the stranger. 

" It's eleven miles down to Rogers' — plain trail — git or 
fight !" whispered the old man as he hauled his revolver 
around. 

" What — what do you mean ?" 

" I don't mean nothin', stranger," solemnly replied old 
Blue Bottle, " but if them big words and that name o' 
yours don't dig out for Rogers' in ten ticks of the watch 
I shell commence shootin' at clus range and keep 'er up 
till the powder gives out !" 

The traveler made for the door, and the last we saw of 
him he was wrestling with the mud on the Daniel Webstur 
Level. 




THAT EMERSON BOY. 




ORE than one will grieve to learn that 
the Emerson boy is dead, and that there 
isn't any one around that house now to 
make fun. He was a cheerful, lively 
boy, and he did his best to make the 
Ik household put on the mantle of joyful- 
ness. Emerson often remarked that 
4^ Bob didn't seem to ever sit down and 
think of the grave and death, and he probably never did. 
No, Bob wasn't of that make. He wanted to have fun, 
and if the coroner should have his body exhumed to-day 
I have no doubt that certain portions of it would be found 
calloused, where the press-board used to fall. Both his ears 
were nearly worn off by being cuffed so much, and it took 
a whole row of currant bushes to furnish whips to dust his 
jacket for one summer. 

Emerson didn't know what fun was until Bob was eight 
years old. Then the boy began to launch out. He would 
bore gimlet-holes in the bottom of the water pail, put 
cartridges in the coal stove, unscrew the door-knobs, fill 
the kerosene can with water, and a good thrashing didn't 
burden his mind over five minutes. Sometimes his father 
would take him by the hair and yank him up to the sofa 
and sit down and ask : 

" Robert Parathon Emerson, what in blazes ails ye ?" 

366 



THE PESKY RATS. 



867 



" It's the yallcr jaunders, I guess," Bob would meekly 
reply. 

" Robert, don't you want to be an angel ?" the old man 
would continue. 

" And have wings ?" 
" Yes, my son." 
" And fly higher'n a kite ?" 
" Yes." 

" And fight hawks 1" 
" Y-e-s, I guess so." 

" Bet your beef I would — whoop ! bully for the angels !" 
" That's sacrilege, that is !" the old man would remark, 
and he would jerk Bob's hair some more and declare that 
the young rascal was bound for the gallows. After lying 
under the pear tree for six minutes Bob would recover 
from his sadness and go over to the barn and run the pitch- 
fork through the straw-cutter, harness up the cow and stick 
pins into the family horse. 

One night he brought home a wolf-trap and set it in the 
middle of the woodshed floor to catch a rat. He chuckled 
a good deal that evening at the thought of what would 
happen to the rats, and he fell asleep and dreamed that he 
was a hand-organ, and that some one stole the crank to 
him so that he couldn't be played on. Just before going 

to bed old Emerson went out 
after a scuttle of coal, and lie 
stepped his bootless foot into 
that trap. He made a mighty 
spring and uttered a mighty yell, 
and it took two men ten minutes 
to spring the trap off his leg. 

The Old Man's Arguments. " It's that boy's WOl'k !" lie 

groaned as he nursed his foot, and he took up the boot- 
jack, limped into the bedroom and gave Bob an awful clip, 




368 GONE UP. 

just as the child was dreaming of playing base ball with 
a mermaid. 

"I'll pound ye to death if ye don't stop this fooling!" 
cried the old man, but he hadn't been out of the bedroom 
ten minutes before Bob was planning to stop up the chim- 
ney next day and smoke everybody out of the house. It 
wasn't many days before he fixed a darning needle in the 
cushion of his father's arm chair and bounced the old man 
three feet high, and his licking hadn't got over smarting 
before he exploded a fire-cracker in his mother's snuff box. 
That night the old man said to him as he took him by 
the ear : 

" Robert Parathon Emerson, do you ever think of where 
you will go to ?" 

" Yes, sir," he answered, "I'll go to bed purty soon !" 

Then he got another mauling and went to bed to dream 
that he was a three-tined pitchfork, and that a man was 
using him to load hay with. 

Poor boy ! Even three days before he died, and while 
on his death-bed, he managed to slip an eight-ounce tack 
into his father's left boot and get up another circus. If 
he's in Heaven now I truly believe he'll put up some job 
on the first angel that comes around him. 



THE WOMAN WITH THE POETRY. 



WAS strolling around in Cleveland when I met 
" By." Brown, who flew the frisket and pulled the 
press when I first learned to ink the roller.^ We used 
to have " Sheep's-foot sling " together, suffered alike for 
the want of prompt pay, and I was glad to see him. He 
wanted to go down to the Plain Dealer office to see some 
of the boys, and I went along. 

We reached the office soon after the editors had started 
out for dinner, and were overhauling the exchanges when 
a gaunt, sharp-nosed woman, looking red in the face from 
climbing the stairs, stood in the door and asked if she 
could see the editor. 

" Come in, madam," said Brown, bowing with great gal- 
lantry — "I am the editor." 

" Well, we've taken this paper for seventeen years," she 
continued as she sat down beside him, " and I want a little 
favor. We've lost our child — our little Ross, and I've 
written a few verses on him and would like to have 'em 
printed in the paper." 

" With pleasure, madam," replied Brown, reaching out 
for the foolscap on which she had written twelve or four- 
teen verses. 

" The neighbors say it's real poetry," she went on, " and 
though I don't purtend to be a poet I think there is some- 
thing here to touch every mother's heart." 
x 309 



370 



THE PIE-BALD EYE. 



" Let's see ?" mused Brown, as he glanced at the first 
verse ; " it starts off good : 

We've lost our darling lioss, 
And we deeply mourn his loss." 

"Hoss !" she exclaimed — there's 
no hoss in them verses !" 

" H-o-ss, hoss — isn't that hoss?" 
he asked. 

" Boss — our boy's name," she 
explained as she looked over his 
shoulder. 

" Ah ! I see, now. Well : 



He is "with the angels now, 
With a garland on the cow." 




Not a Poet. 



" What !" she shrieked, snatch- 
ing at the manuscript. 

" With a garland on the cow, madam," he replied. 
" That's original and touching." 

" It's a garland on his brow," she said, beginning to 
breathe hard. 

" It may be — it may be," he continued in a dubious tone, 
" but I would advise you to leave it the other way. This 
poetry will be copied all over the world, and although I 
am no great judge of poetry, and the office is a little hard 
up for money just now, I should feel safe in offering you 
$1,000 for this poem just as it stands." 

" Is that so !" she gasped, smiling clear back to her ears. 

" I might even do better, but let's see the next verse : 

He was a joyous child, 
And he had a pie-bald eye." 

"Pie — what — bald — bald what!" she screamed as she 
rose up again. 

" Oh, I see now — ' and his eye was blue and mild.' 



A FALL OF TEARS. 



371 




Well, as a friend, as a disinterested friend, I would advise 
you to leave the line as I read it. Children are dying 
around us every day, madam, hut it isn't once a year that 

a child with a pie-hald eye is fol- 
lowed to the grave. I tell you 
that this poem is certain to lift 
you from the pit of obscurity to 
the eminence of fame in just one 
day. But to go on : 

He was too pure to stay, 
And so he flew a dray." 



" A what — a dray !" 
" Yes, madam — he flew a dray. 
That expression alone is worth 
$500 to you, and I hope you 
won't alter it." 
"is that so?" "And so he flew away!" she 

exclaimed as she put her finger on the line. 

" I believe it is, but still I hope you won't change it. 
Those two verses are splendid, and now: 

We ne'er shall see him more, 
And it makes our heels so sore. 

That's another five hundred dollar expression, madam, and 
if I were pinned " 

" Are you making fun of me ?" she inquired as she rose 
up and laid a large-sized fist on the table and drew her 
mouth into a very serious shape. 

" Could I have the heart to sport with your affliction, 
madam ? By the beard of the Prophet, no ! Let me 

finish : 

Our tears fall night and day, 
But we'll not forget to play. 

That's good — excellent ! Exercise is good for the health, 
madam, and " 



372 LOST HER SUBSCRIPTION. 

"Gimme them verses!" she demanded in a hoarse 
whisper. 

" I will, madam, but I wouldn't make any corrections if 
I were you. Now hear the next : 

We miss his pattering feet — 
We miss his lamb-like bleat. 

Now, madam, if one thousand dollars is any " 



She made a grab, secured the verses, and as she raised 
her umbrella over her shoulder she gasped out : 

" Taken this — paper — seventeen — years !" 

"Do not be agitated, madam — control your nerves. 
You see " 

"But I'll stop it — I'll stop it!" she screamed. 

" Stay, madam. Let me argue with you — let me 
entreat " 

" I'll stop it — I'll stop it !" she screamed as she sailed 
down the hall. 

" Madam, listen to me — a lone man — an orphan — a " 

" And I'll git all my neighbors to stop it !" she yelled 
back from the landing. 

" Madam, would you ruin an orphan — crush down " 

"And I'll git up a club for the Leader!" she shrieked 
back, and — and " 

She was out of hearing. 



SOMETHING ABOUT THE SELF-MADE MEN 
OF DETROIT. 




I VERY city has a certain few citizens of 
whom it is proud, because of their long 
and victorious struggles against the frowns 
of Fortune. Detroit is no exception to 
the rule. As the modesty of the individu- 
als here given would have prevented them 
from writing themselves up for any of the 
Harpers' publications, no matter what dis- 
count was allowed for geographical situa- 
tion, the reader can congratulate himself 
that he would have never learned the his- 
tories of some of them but for the enterprise of your 
humble servant. 

James McGee came to this city forty-nine years ago, 
with only seven cents in his pocket. By strict attention 
to business he has not only been enabled to increase his 
capital one-half, but is able to rent a house at fifteen dol- 
lars per month, where the landlord don't know who he is. 
At one time he was owing nearly six hundred dollars, such 
w;is his business energy ; but at this writing he doesn't owe 
a cent — the debts having outlawed. 

John Tweezer came here twenty-one years ago, having 
less than forty cents about him. He saw a fine opening 
here for a cotton factory, and he sees one yet. He believes 
he might have cleared five hundred thousand dollars by 

373 



374 



TWEEZER AND SWIPES. 




Frugality. 



establishing a large factory of the kind, but he didn't start 

one. His habits of frugality, industry and perseverance 
at length attracted the attention of a 
gentleman connected with the House 
of Correction, and he " took him in " 
to assist in running the chair business. 
Although Mr. Tweezer didn't lose a 
cent, he came out of the partnership 
business after six months without a 
dollar. But he had a spirit which 
could not be put down, and prevailed 
upon a man to give him another start. 
He is now able to ride in a carriage — 
|P being coachman for a family in the 
western part of the city. He has 
never had the honor of having his 

wood cut appear in the Phrenological Journal, but the chief 

of police has on file a very nice photograph of him. 

Henry Swipes took up his residence here nearly fifteen 

years ago, living for the first three 

months in the brown stone man- 
sion on the corner of Beaubien 

and Clinton streets. He hadn't 

a cent in his pockets, no change 

of clothing, had to contribute 

from his earnings to the support 

of a mother and seven children, 

and any man of ordinary spirit 

would have been discouraged. 

Mr. Swipes was not of that metal. 

He saw that a boiler shop would 

pay a large profit, and so he — 

tried to borrow ten dollars to start a saloon, but as no one 

could see where he was going to use so much money, he 




— w<t 
Didn't Get Discouraged. 



SLAGS, STRIKER AND QUIRK. 375 

didn't get it. He then went to work as a laborer, and has 
moved in that sphere ever since, being able this spring to 
have the city assess seventy dollars on an alley sewer 
behind his landlord's house. He has never taken an office 
in his life, because he can't get one, and he looks upon 
political struggles with scorn and disdain. 

J. H. R. N. Slags came here when Detroit was a town 
of a few thousand inhabitants, and he brought all his 
initials with him. After considerable discussion he decided 
that property would soon double, and would have pur- 
chased several blocks if holders could have been induced 
to do a credit business. lie consequently didn't purchase, 
and has had to make his fortune in other ways. He 
decided never to tell the truth under any circumstances, 
and has stuck to his decision with remarkable pertinacity 
and force of character, and to this fact he owes most of 
1 his wealth — that is, the wealth his grandmother is going 
to leave him. He was in the habit of handling consider- 
able money, but had to quit when the alarm-bell money 
drawer was invented, as it then became too risky. 

Samuel Striker came here only ten years ago, and has 
already succeeded in outrunning three different policemen, 
and in keeping clear of seven or eight documents issued 
from various courts. Most any man would give up in des- 
pair and get across to "Windsor, but Mr. Striker is bound 
to keep his residence in Detroit, and can't be persuaded 
that Jackson is any location for business. 

John Quirk settled here fifteen years ago. He was as 
remarkable then as now for his great decision of character. 
He had been in Detroit but three hours before he decided 
to many a brown stone house, and a half interest in a 
bank. Unfortunately, the young lady was endowed with 
the same great decision, and Mr. Quirk didn't marry. lie 
is now driving team, patiently waiting his time. 



376 



AND BLANK AND HOPE. 



Septimus Blank came here in indigent circumstances. 
He soon saw that there was a chance to speculate in real 
estate, and wrote to his uncle to lend him fifteen thousand 

dollars. His uncle replied 
that he hadn't even fifteen 
cents, and thus the specula- 
tion fell through. However, 
Mr. Blank could not be put 
back by such a trifle as 
fifteen thousand dollars, or 
even fifteen cents, and has 
worked his way against the 
tide until last year he was 
able to draw a check for 
thirty thousand dollars. He 
" drew it over " a country- 
man and got twenty-eight 
dollars on the strength of it,' 
and is now spending a season in the Adirondacks, or 
somewhere else out of the reach of policemen. 

Solomon Hope is the last on the list. He moved into 
Detroit on a hand-sled, and the first house he lived in was 
a stable. He has been many times heard to say that his 
sole food for the first year was nothing but corn meal and 
molasses. Our citizens all know where the post-office is ? 
"Well, Mr. Hope don't own that building, and never will. 
He started a small grocery store on Woodward avenue, 
and, by strict honesty and the utmost economy, succeeded 
in getting out of town one night with every cent he ever 
made and some which he didn't make. It is due, how- 
ever, to him to state that he shortly returned and com- 
promised the matter — by stealing a horse and getting 
where his creditors couldn't put up any job on him. 




Quirk's Vain Love. 



THE LATE ARTEMUS WARD'S WARM FRIENDS. 



fiST addition to being a good fellow, I think the late 
Artemus Ward had a lar^e number of warm personal 
friends. I suppose that a great many of them have 
followed him " over the river," but I think there's enough 
left to quite cover an acre of ground. Among the letters 
received last week were the following : 

"Jersey City, August 20, 1875. 
Mr. Quad — Dear Sir — I understand that you are going 
to publish a book. I hope you will make a success of it. 

J. B. M., 

Warm friend of the late Artemus Ward." 

And this : 

"Over the Riiine, Cincinnati, Aug. 18. 

Mr. Quat — I haf understandt you will be going to make 
a vunny pook. Ish dot zo ? Make zum goot bicture for 
her, und sphcaks lots of shokes. 

Very drooly, 

TJANR C., 
Der warm frent mit der late Ardemus Wart." 

And this : 

" Philadelphia, August 16. 

Mr. Quad — When is that book to be issued ? Send me 

a copy C. O. D. 

Yours, 

B. F. L., 
Warm friend of the late Artemus Ward." 

377 



378 MORE WARM FRIENDS. 

And this : 

" Chicago, August 15th. 

Mr. McQuad — I am a raspictable widely woman, and I 
have to wash for a living. Dennis McCarthy was a sphak- 
ing to me uv that book uv yours, and I forward thray dol- 
lars by this mail to prhoeure a copy. Send it airly. 

Very raspictably, 

B. McG., 

Warum frind of the late Artemus Ward." 

And this : 

"Brunswick, O., Aug. 17. 

M. Q. — Dear Sir — Is that book out yet ? What is the 

price ? Is it anything like a dictionary, and will it have 

red covers ? 

Yours ever, 

V. L. 8., 

Warm friend of the late Artemus Ward." 

And this : 

"Lexington, August 13th. 

Dear Sir — I want to act as agent for your book. I think 

I can sell a large number of them, as everybody around 

here knows me as 

S. T. F., 

Warm friend of the late Artemus Ward." 

And this : 

"Milwaukee, August 19. 

M. Quad — I notice by the papers that you are going to 
get out a book. Is it a Sunday school book, and would it 
be safe to let my children read it ? 

Very truly, 

L. A. M., 

Warm friend of the late Artemus Ward." 

There were twenty-two other letters similarly signed, 
and more are coming in by every mail. It seems to me 
that a man as well provided with warm personal friends 
as Mr. Ward, should have died owing more borrowed 
money than he did. 



' 



THE BAD BOY. 



CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. 

IS name was John Anderson Tompkins, and lie was 
going on thirteen years old. He had freckles all 
over his nose, chewed plug tobacco, and loafed around 
select schools and put " tin ears " on boys smaller than 
himself. His father was killed by a Canada saw log, his 
only sister slept in the silent tomb, and his mother divided 
time between gossiping and canvassing for money for the 
heathen in Africa. 

CHAPTER II. — THUSLY. 

Thus it will be seen that there was no one to give John 
Anderson Tompkins any domestic attention beyond an 
occasional whack with a slipper, which made him the 
worse. He wasn't sent to school, never had to take a dose 
of castor oil, was allowed to go around with a letter in the 
post-office, and his pants supported by a magnificent belt 
of sheep twine, and if he wasn't home by ten o'clock at 
night his mother was sure he would dump down some- 
where and be home in time for codfish and potatoes in the 
morning. 

CHAPTER III. SHAMEFUL NEGLECT. 

John Anderson Tompkins' mother never took him on 
her knee and asked him if he knew where he'd go to if he 

379 



380 



THAT BOY S WORK. 



grew up to be an awful liar and horse thief. She never 
told him about the children of Egypt, Moses in the bull- 
rushes, or Daniel in the lion's den, and it is no wonder 
that he grew up to be a bad boy. She never had sticking 
plasters ready when he got cut, and on Sunday mornings 
there was no one to rub him behind his ears, fill his eyes 
with soap water, and comb his hair the wrong way. 




Not in School. 



CHAPTER IV. — HIS PECULIARITIES. 

Everything that happened in the village was laid at John 
Anderson Tompkins' door: "It's some of that boy's work," 
whenever a bushel of plums, a watermelon, or a peck of 
peaches mysteriously disappeared. He was probably guilty 
of everything charged, as when he died they found where 
he had hidden seventeen stolen cow-bells, forty axes, ever 
so many saw-bucks, fifteen or twenty front gates, and I 
don't remember how many snow shovels. 



MORE ABOUT THE RASCAL. 



381 



CHAPTER V. — DOWN ON HIM. 

In time, as the reader was informed in a previous chap- 
ter, the adult male population of the village got down on 
John Anderson Tompkins. Old maids jabbed at him with 
umbrellas, merchants flung pound weights at him, shoe- 
makers dosed him with strap oil, and grocers always 
looked around for John Anderson Tompkins when they 
wanted to heave out bad eggs or spoiled fruit. 




His Outside Friends. 



CHAPTER VI. — HIS AMBITION. 

You may think that they would have eventually suc- 
ceeded in breaking the boy's spirit and dashing his hopes, 
but they couldn't do it. He had an ambition which noth- 
ing could check. lie wanted to be a bold pirate and sail 
on the raging main, and he was patiently waiting for the 
time to come when he could wear No. 10 boots, and swear 
in a voice like the echoes of a bass-viol. lie would be 
content to crawl into hen-roosts and to creep around horse 
barns for a few years, but then — but then 




^=»rV»<t 



382 HE FINDS NEW PLUNDER. 

CHAPTER VII. — EFFORTS TO REFORM. 

Some of the most philanthropic citizens made strenuous 
efforts to reform the boy. They locked him up in a smoke 

house for a week ; they club- 
bed him till he couldn't yell, 
and they held him under a 
pump until he was as limp as 
a rag, but as soon as they let 

Efforts at Reform. him gO, he Went right back 

to his old habits again. 

CHAPTER VIII. — NEARINO HIS END. 

John Anderson Tompkins had kept this thing up for 
eight or nine years when our story opens, and he was near- 
ing his end. Justice overtakes the guilty, sooner or later, 
and justice was lying low for this bad boy. He had the 
cheek to believe that he would live to be a hundred years 
old, but he was to be taken down a peg or two, and his 
mother left an orphan. 

CHAPTER IX. THE END. 

One day, while in the hey-day of his wickedness, John 
Anderson Tompkins came upon something new in the 
line of plunder. It was a pile of little cans labeled " nitro- 
glycerine — hands off — dangerous, etc.," but he couldn't 
read, and didn't care a copper. He carried a can behind 
the meeting-house and sat down on a rock to open it. 

There wasn't any guardian angel around to tell him that 
he'd " get busted " if he fooled with that can, and so he 
spit on both hands, and gave it a whack with a stone. 

CHAPTER X. — OBITUARY. 

The folks all ran out, and after a good deal of trouble, 



AND GOES UP WITH IT. 



383 



they found and separated the pieces of boy, and c;ot 
together enough of John Anderson to fill a cigar-box and 
answer as the basis of the funeral. They buried him in a 
quiet nook, and the grave-stone maker put a little lamb on 
the head-stone, to show that John Anderson Tompkins 
was meek and lovely. 




THE GOOD BOY. 



A SEQUEL TO TIIE BAD BOY. 



CHAPTER I. — INTRODUCTION. 



UEERLY enough, once upon a time there was 
I a very good boy living in the State of New 
W Jersey. Some readers may think it singular 
f that a good boy should live in New Jersey, 



but I am writing facts. 



CHAPTER II. HIS NAME. 

The name of this very good boy was Charles Henry 
Worthington Adams, and he had white hair, a freckled 
face, an innocent look, and his highest aim was to please 
his father and mother. His father never had to tell him 
to take off his coat and come to the barn for a thrashing, 
and his mother never broke any of her fingers cuffing his 
ears. 

CHAPTER III. — RETIRING DISPOSITION. 

Charles Henry Worthington was of a very retiring dis- 
position, always retiring to bed at early candle-light. He 
never made any fuss about going up stairs in the dark, as 
most bo}'S do, and even if his parents had a strawberry 
festival in the house, or his father was reading a dime 
novel aloud, the little hero would promptly seek his couch 
at the usual hour without a murmur. 

384 



MORE ABOUT THE GOOD BOY. 



385 




CHAPTER IV. — FORGIVING SPIRIT. 

Charles Henry Worthington had a very meek, forgiving 
spirit, and he didn't hold a grudge as 



_[j§|i? some boys do; he wasn't that kind. He 
||p didn't go around blowing how he'd fix 
the old man's ear, or that he'd make 
his mother mighty sorry, and he never 
threatened to run away to sea and 
become a bold pirate. He didn't know 
anything about prize-fights, duels or 
bowie knives; and if a boy went to 
put a head on him, Charles Henry 
Worthington always made a bolt for 
home. 

His Love. 

CHAPTER V. — HE LOVED HIS HOME. 

Our good boy loved his home, and it was seldom that he 
wandered from it, unless his mother sent him to borrow 
Mrs. Bradly's quilt-frame or Mrs. Tyler's brass kettle. He 
never went out stealing water melons ; never ran away to 
go in swimming ; would never go with the boys to see a 
dead horse or a 



sick cow, but he 
preferred to pick 
up chips, hoe in the 
garden or hunt out 
and kill the pesky 
potato -bugs. In £ 
the course of seven 
years this boy won four school medals, had the bilious colic 
twice, won a Sunday school prize, and had the honor of 
Y 




3S6 



HE LEFT NEW JERSEY. 



riding to a religious pic-nic with his legs over the end- 
hoard of the minister's one-horse wagon. 

CHAPTER VI. — TAKEN SICK. 

At last this boy was taken sick. You may have observed 
that all good boys generally die young, especially good 
New Jersey boys. His mother made him toast and catnip 
tea, soaked his feet and tied a towel around his head, but, 
alas ! he grew worse. She gave him a pill in some pear 
sauce, made him some ginger tea, and promised him a 
bunch of fire crackers the next Fourth of July. 



CHAPTER VII. — HE WAS DOOMED. 




'Lemme See Your Tongue. 



He grew worse, and 
the doctor was sent 
for. The doctor felt his 
pulse, looked into his 
mouth and made him 
run out bis tongue ; spit 
on the carpet, and said 
he guessed Charles Hen- 
ry "Worthington would 
soon get well. But 



CHAPTER VIII — HE WAS SUCKED IN, 

This doctor was. He wasn't used to doctoring good little 
boys, and within twenty-four hours after he left the house 
Charles Henry "Worthington was a shining angel, and his 
father had to split his own kindlings and make his own 
fires. They buried him under a weeping willow, letting 
all the Sunday school children march around and have a 
sight of him, and it was two months before his mother 
could go to the sewing society and talk as freely as before. 



TO CHILDREN. 



387 



CHAPTER IX — THE EXD. 

There's nothing like being a good boy. I hope that all 
the little boys and girls who read this will try from this 
time forward to be a good boy, so that when they die they 
may have a marble lamb with a bushy tail on their tomb- 
stone. 




;\^c— 



CLEANING HOUSE. 




E always begin cleaning house 
on the first of May. We have 
just commenced now, and I write 
these few lines on the bread- 
board, with a bureau drawer for 
a seat, while Long Primer is 
playing horse in the parlor with 
a bust of Andrew Jackson, and Small Pica is dipping lace 
curtains into a pail of whitewash. 

We don't clean one room at a time, but go at it in a 
wholesale "way and rake the old house from floor to roof. 
Three mornings ago when I started down town my wife 
said in her innocent, deceiving way, that she guessed she'd 
do a little house cleaning, and that we'd have a picked up 
dinner. When I returned home the bedsteads were circling 
around the back yard, the kitchen stove was buried under 
the straw beds, the curtains were down, windows out, car- 
pets up, and four Africans were mildly drawing their white- 
wash brushes over the ceilings and having an animated 
discussion about cremation. My wife said she'd have it so 
clean that a fly would break its neck slipping down, and 
she was so enthusiastic about it that I cheerfully ate dinner 
off the mantle piece and made no remarks about it when 
I found the cork of the camphor bottle and the front door 
key stuffed into the spout of the coffee-pot. When I left 
the house Small Pica was hanging to the pegs of the hall- 



HURRYING IT UP. 



389 



tree and singing " Mollie Darling," and Long Primer was 
trying to wipe the whitewash out of his left eye with a 
chromo of the Yosemite Valley, but my wife said I needn't 
stay on their account. 

I came up at night believing that everything would be 
regulated, but the bedsteads in the back yard had increased 
in number, chromos were hanging to the clothes line, the 
clock was being dissected in the alley by a youth of great 
inventive genius, and carpets, stair-rods, looking-glasses, 
crockery, brackets and rolling-pins were so piled in together 
that my head swam. 




The Back- Yard. 

" I'm hurrying it up," said my wife in a joyful tone as 
she waved her hand at the painters, a scrub woman and a 
carpenter who had been added to the force. 

I sat down on the teakettle and had supper served on 
the north end of a spring mattress, and when I broke a 
tooth on a glass agate concealed in a biscuit, and didn't 
say a word, Mrs. Quad threw her arms around me and 
said she might have married a man with a lightning 
temper. 

I felt flattered and went in to encourage the white- 



390 



MILL SPOILED BY A SPICE CAN. 



washers and painters. They said if it didn't rain, or wasn't 
too cold, or too hot, and they kept in good health, and 
other jobs didn't distract their attention, they'd finish up 
within a week or two, and one of them smashed a vase 
and another punched out a three-dollar pane of .glass by 
way of emphasis. I had blue paint on my coat tails, white 
on my elbows and straw-color on my knees when I got 
out, and a bad boy yelled : 

" Here comes another of them variegated sunflowers !" 

We didn't sleep much that night. Somehow or other, 

no matter how honest a man is, he can't rest very well on 




'Now I Lay Me.' 



a straw bed on the floor, with stove covers gliding around 
under his back, and teaspoons, potato-mashers and pint 
basins feeling of his toes. I dreamed that I was a panel 
bedstead on castors, and I had a bet of five dollars with the 
parlor stove that I could lick the front bedroom bureau in 
just two minutes, but before the " mill " came off* the 
spice can rolled down into my ear and woke me up. 

Next morning Small Pica, who was in bounding spirits, 
essayed a lunch off of half a pound of putty which the 



A SILVER-PLATED DREAM. 



391 



painters had left sticking to a bronze bust of Demosthenes, 
and Long Primer sat down on the butcher knife and got 
up howling; but my wife said that this was a world of 
trilling incident, and told me to go off feeling happy. 
Before I got down town I found the sugar spoon in my 
vest pocket and a towel hitched to my coat tail, but I went 
on. At noon there was an extra painter on hand, another 
scrubbing woman for the stairs, and an orphan boy about 
thirty-six years old had been hired to empty the straw beds 
on the front steps and tear out the pantry shelves. We 
haven't got through yet — in fact, this is chapter I. There 
are eleven more chapters to come, and to-night I am going" 

to sleep on the table, 
Small Pica in a six-gal- 
lon jar, and the rest of 
them on the window- 
sills, as the kitchen 
floor has just been 
i painted and the paper- 
hangers don't want the 
other rooms mussed 
up until the paste dries 
dreaming. and the paint sets. 

Later — midnight. — I fell asleep and dreamed that I was 
a silver-plated, six-bottle, revolving castor, and that the 
soup tureen called me a liar. I went to go for him, and 
awoke on the floor, with my elbow in a pan of flour and 
the meat broiler wildly clutching me by the throat. "What 
the morrow will bring forth I don't know. 




PATENT NO. 249,826. 




HIS patent is a device intended to reduce the 
mortality reports of the country by reducing 
the number of runaways. The " Fat Con- 
tributor " had a device by which a horse was 
lifted off his feet as he started to run, and 
Seymour, of the Milwaukee News, attempted 
to secure a patent on a device to draw a horse 
up into the buggy, but both were failures. 
The device, as shown in the accompanying cut, is entirely 
of my own invention. As can be readily perceived, the 
horse is made to carry all the burden and the anxiety of 

mind. The board can be 
painted a plain color, as blue 
or white or black, or striped 
off in red, white and blue. 
Some enterprising business 
men have already taken ad- 
vantage of the occasion to 
adorn the board with an 
As an ornament. advertisement of their wares. 

Any active and energetic carpenter can make one of 
these boards in three days, and each one will last a life- 
time. After the horse is cured of his habit the board 
makes a handsome lawn ornament, when leaned gracefully 
against a peach tree. It can be sold for a black-board, 

392 




VERY FLATTERING. 



393 



used on the hay-mow for the boys to play euchre on, and 
there is no end to the uses to which it can be put. 

A circular of instructions accompanies each board. The 
first engraving illustrates the manner of carrying the board. 
The side toward the carriage can be ornamented with 
engravings, patriotic mottoes, or otherwise rendered beau- 
tiful to the sight of the driver. The following cut illus- 
trates the real value of the device. As soon as the horse 
passes from under control the ropes 
numbered a and 6 are pulled by the 
driver, and the board at 
once falls down in front 
of the flying animal, as 
shown. He has to bring 1 
right up, and his aston- 
ishment is only equaled 
by his admiration. 

The following are se- put to usb. 

lected from the numerous testimonials received by the 
patentee : 

" Courier- Journal Office, June 18, 1875. 
M. Quad — Dear Sir — Just tried one of your patent Run- 
away Preventives. Never saw anything like it in Europe, 
Asia or Africa. If I owned the Erie canal I'd trade every 
rod of it for a Preventive, and then feel as if I owed you 

ten thousand dollars. 

WATTERSON." 

And gaze at this : 

"Brooklyn, N. Y., Juno 5, 1875. 

M. Quad — I snuffed at your Preventive when I first saw 
it, but the events of the last hour have convinced me that 
it is the biggest thing on earth. The life of my mother- 
in-law would have been sacrificed but for your genius. 




894 RECOMMENDATORY. 

Enclosed find $25, the paltry price of the Preventive, and 

ship me one with the motto ' Be kind to thy sister ' on 

the back side. 

Tour grateful friend, 



GEO. D. BAYARD." 



And behold the following 



"Mining Journal Office, ) 
Marquette, July 1, '75. \ 

Honored Sir — Had a horse — habit running away — killed 

three wives — borrowed one of your Preventives — worked 

like a charm — stopped him like a bullet — felt so mean 

over it that he couldn't eat his rations for three days — bless 

you — send me sixteen by express at once. 

Ever of thee, 

SWTNEFORD." 

A voice from Ohio says : 

"Dayton, July 11, 1875. 

Dear Sir — I have been run away with 1,368 times, but 
the end has come. Your ' Preventive ' is bound to pro- 
duce a revolution in horse society. If you have not selected 
an agent for this State yet, please give me your best terms. 
It was only three weeks ago that twelve of my relatives, 
coming to spend the summer with me, were run away with 
and killed. Unless you have had twelve dear relatives 
mashed up at once you cannot imagine my feelings. 

Very truly, 

THE MAYOR." 

Just one more — from Indiana : 

"Times Office, Indianapolis, July 4th. 

Glorious day ! whoop ! Liberty and your ' Preventive ' 
forever ! Mncty-nine years ago to-day we whipped the 
British at Bunker Hill, and our glorious independence was 
forever secured ! Have tried your patent ; worked like a 
school ma'am sliding off a bench ! Horse went right home 
and died of a broken heart. Send me two right away, 
and give me a State right if you can. 

Hastily, THE HEAD EDITOR." 






PARTIALITY. 




ORTUNATELY, the rest of the people were 
^ ut dinner, and I was nearly ready to go, when 
the stranger came up stairs. lie wanted to 
know if I was the head editor. I couldn't tell 
a lie, and I replied that I was not ; explained 
to him that I was only a humhle memher of the editorial 
staff, having no particular routine work, hut expected to 
write local, pick up marine, write obituary poetry, clip 
from agricultural papers and put heads on telegraph 
matter. 

He was going away without further remark, but he 
turned as he reached the head of the stairs, came back, 
and in an indignant voice he said : 
" I'm going to stop my paper !" 
"No!" 

" Yes, I am !" 
"I wouldn't do it." 

"I will, I will !" he exclaimed ; "I've taken this paper 
for fifteen years, but I'm going to stop it now !" 
" For why ?" 

"For why? Because you show partiality! I don't 
claim to be better'n anybody else, but I'm just as good." 

395 



196 



POLITICIANS EXCEPTED. 



" Of course you are. Has this paper said that you 
weren't?" 

" Not exactly — not in so many words." 

" "Well, now, we try to do right by everybody excepting 
politicians. If we have injured you in any manner state 
your case and we'll make it right. It isn't fair for you to 
come in here and stop your paper on the eve of a Presi- 
dential election, and just as we are recovering from a great 
panic." 





Stop 'er!" 



He hesitated for a moment, and then, opening a copy of 
the paper a week old, he pointed to a local article, and 
continued : 

" You see that, don't you ?" 

" Yes, sir, I do ; it is a local item how John Jones' boy 
got hooked by a cow." 

" And there's fourteen lines of it !" 



THIN PROVOCATION. 



397 



"One — three — seven — eleven — yes, sir, just fourteen." 

" And you see this ?" he inquired, as he laid the morn- 
ing paper on the desk and pointed to a local item. 

" Yes, sir ; that is an item about how Thomas Thomp- 
son's boy got kicked by a mule." 

"And there's only ten lines in it !" 

" One — four — seven — ten — -just ten." 

" Well, sir, that was my boy, and I want to know if he 
isn't every bit and grain as good as Jones' boy ! I want 
to know if Jones, who never took this paper in his life, is 
any better than I am ! If that's the way you run your 
paper, I'm going to stop mine ! My boy got hurt twice as 
hard as his boy, and yet you give his boy four lines the most!" 

I tried to argue with him, but he was obstinate and 
ugly, and we lost his subscription. 




THE OLD PIONEER. 



"Oil may not have encountered him, but every city or 
village over twenty-five years old has an " old pio- 
neer." He is an aged man, walks with a cane, has a bent 
back and scant gray locks, and he is entitled to the 
unbounded respect of all citizens. 

Many little privileges are accorded the " old pioneer." 
He can open the cheese-box in a grocery and help himself, 
hook apples, reach over for peanuts, have the head of the 
table when the firemen give a banquet, and if he crawls 
under the canvas on circus day none of the circus-men 
strike at him with a neck-yoke. 

And if the " old pioneer " says that it's going to be a 
hard winter, a soft winter, a cool summer or a rainy fall, it 
would be like entering a den of lions for one to rise up 
and dispute him. He predicts political events, prophesies 
revolutions, remembers all about how the Free Masons 
killed John Morgan, and confidently expects a column 
notice in the local papers when he drops off. 

I met one of the old fellows the other day on the cars. 
He assured me that riding on the cars was far more pleas- 
ant than making a journey on horseback, and he said that 
the country had improved some since he used to carry the 
mail between New York and Chicago. I was looking 
right at him, but he never blushed as he said that he used 
to make the round trip on horseback in five days. I was 
wondering how he could have done it when he went on to 

398 



GOODNESS GRACIOUS ! 



399 



say that New York contained onl}' eleven houses, and 
Chicago only four, at the time he acted as mail-carrier. I 
remarked that the mails must have been light in those 
early days, when he replied : 

" Light ! why bless you, my son, I never had less than 

fourteen full mail-bags, and sometimes as high as twenty !" 

I expected to see him struck dead in his seat, but greatly 

to my surprise he continued to live right on, the same as 

if he had never told a lie. 

" Ever have any fights with the Indians in those early 
days ?" I finally inquired. 

"Injun fights! Well, I should say I had a few — ha! 
ha ! ha ! I wish you could go home with me to old Che- 
mung county. I've got seven dry- 
goods boxes filled with Indian top- 
knots — seven boxes left, and I've 
been making horse -blankets and 
door-mats out of my pile for over 
forty years !" 
"Is it possible !" 

" Yes, it is. I don't say this to 
brag, but you asked me a plain ques- 
tion and I answered it. I suppose I 
killed 11,873 Indians during my 
early life, though I won't say that 
these arc the exact figures. It might 
have been 11,874, or only 11,872—1 
am ircttin^ old and can't remember 
dates very well." 
"Ever see George Washington ?" I asked. 
"See George Washington!" he echoed — "why, he 
boarded in my family over four years I" 
" He did !" 
"Yes, he did." 




400 



GRACIOUS GOODNESS I 



" When was that ?" 

" Let's see ! Well, I don't remember just when it was, 
only I know it was quite a while ago. Yes, George 
boarded with me, and I've got a bill of forty dollars some- 
where against him now. He was a little hard up for cash 
when he left us." 

" Did you ever see William Penn ?" I asked after awhile. 

"BillPenn! ha! ha! why, 
I wish I had as many dollars 
as the number of times Bill 
and I have slid down hill 
together ! His father lived 
in part of our house for 
eight years, and Bill and I 
were like brothers. I could 
lick him, and he knew it, 
but we never even had a 
cross word between us. 
Poor Bill! When I read 
about his being blown up on 
a steamboat I said to myself 
that I'd rather have lost a 
brother." 

I waited a good while and 
then inquired : 

" Were you in the Revo- 
lutionary war ?" 

" The Revolutionary war! 
why, you must take me for 
iflp? a boy !" he replied. " Why, 
I was the first man to jine ! 
There was a week when the Patriots didn't have any army 
but me, and there was so much fighting and marching that 
I almost got discouraged." 




— ft? 

The Patriot Army. 



NEVER SAW COLUMBUS ! 401 

" Then you must have met General Lafayette ?" 

" General Lafayette ! Why, on the morning of the bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill, Washington, Lafayette, Bill Penn and 
myself were playing a four-handed game of euchre in an 
old barn just outside of Boston. Lafayette was killed just 
as he was dealing the cards !" 

" I thought he went back to France and died." 

" No, sir." 

" But history says so." 

" I don't care a plum for history, young man ! Didn't 
his blood scatter all over me, and weren't his last words 
addressed to me ! I guess I know as much as any history." 

" What were his last words ?" 

" Last words ? Well, sir, he didn't have time to say 
much. A cannon ball struck him in the body, and all he 
said was ' Don't give up the ship !' Poor Laif ! He was a 
little conceited, but when he borrowed a dollar of you it 
was certain to come back." 

" You never saw Christopher Columbus, did you ?" I 
finally asked, determined to wind him up. 

He was staggered for a moment, but then recovered and 
answered : 

" Christopher Co-lum-bus ! Well, no, I never did. My 
brother used to talk a good deal about Chris, but I never 
happened to see him. They say he didn't amount to much, 
after all — used to get tight on election day, kept a fighting- 
dog and a race-horse, and was always blowing around what 
he could do. I was always careful of my character, and 
they can't say of me that I ever associated with low folks." 
z 



GETTING THE HAIR CUT. 




LL of a sudden he said I had better have my 
»hair cut, at the same time running his 
hand up and down my neck, over my 
ears and around the crown of my head. 
I said I guessed I wouldn't ; I would 
come in next day ; I was in a hurry. 
" Pretty long," he continued, feel- 
ing of my head again. 
I said I always wore my hair long, and he shut up for a 
minute or two while he lathered my face and strapped his 
razor. Then he drew a deep sigh and whispered : 
" Guess you'd better have it cut." 

I replied that I never had my hair cut — always wore it 
hanging down to my boots, but he looked so sad and dis- 
appointed that I felt ashamed of myself. He might be a 
man with a large family depending on him, and perhaps 
his very bread depending on my having my hair cut. 
Perhaps he had his house and lot mortgaged, and the last 
payment was due that day, and if I didn't get my hair cut 
his family would be turned out of doors. After a little 
time I meekly remarked that he might cut away. 

The smile which covered his face was reward enough for 
a poor man like me. He drew an apron around me, dug 
his fingers down behind my collar, gave my head seven or 
eight preparatory knocks, and then commenced — snip ! 
snip ! comb ! brush ! snip ! 

402 



AN INDIRECT REPLY. 



403 



He ordered me to sit up a little straighter. Then he 
ordered me to hold my head to the left. Then he ran an 
old brass-pointed comb through my hair, plowing fur- 
rows in my scalp, and then he remarked that I had a good 
deal of dandruff in my hair. 

" It's a base lie !" I exclaimed, for I knew he was getting 
around to ask about a shampoo. 

He made no reply — that is, no direct reply — but as an 
indirect reply he snipped off a piece of my ear. He said 
he didn't mean to do it ; and in another indirect way he 
complimented me with having more ears than hair. 




He finally neared the end — not the end of the hair, but 
the end of his job. He cuffed my head to the right, ran 
his hand down my neck and his old shears over my ear, 
as the last finishing strokes, and then he paused. I knew 
what was coming. He ran his hand over my head, jumped 
back and shouted : 

" Grashus !" 

He thought I would be startled, but I knew his tricks. 
I sat perfectly still, and he said to himself: 

"Dandruff — eness there is!" 



404 SOMETHING SO SAD. 

I wasn't going to let him shampoo me, but there was 
something so sad and melancholy in his voice as he whis- 
pered that word " dandruff," that I felt my heart throb 
with pity. 

I got down and told him to go ahead with his soapsuds, 
and he went. He bent me over the sink, dashed on water, 
rubbed on soap, twisted my hair up and down, filled my 
eyes and ears, enveloped my head in a crash towel, and 
then said : 

"You look a thousand dollars better." 

He knew my mouth was full of suds and my eyes full 
of soap bubbles, so that I couldn't reply, and he went on : 

" There ! I'll warrant you feel a million dollars better." 

He mopped me off, drew that old brass comb over my 
tender scalp, rapped me with the brush, and softly 
whispered : 

'^You look like a new man — forty-five cents, if you 
please." 




THE FAT MAN IN CHICAGO. 




EERILY whistling, he came into the 
ladies' sitting-room of the Chicago 
depot, as I waited there one night. 
He was a fat man, pretty well along in 
years, and one could see that he was 
good-hearted. He placed his travel- 
ing-bag on a bench, took a chain and 
padlock from his pocket, and, as he 
r secured the bag to the seat, he smiled 
blandly and said : 

" I don't know anything about traveling — oh, no ! I 
have to sit right down and hang on to my baggage, to keep 
some one from stealing it, don't I?" 

And he walked up and down the room, arms folded 
across his breast, and the self-satisfied look on his fat face 
was worth fifty thousand dollars in cash. When we had 
admired him he sat down beside an old lady who was en 
route for Cleveland, and inquired : 

" Did you bring along any peppermint essence V* 
She looked up at him with a smile in her eyes, and he 
continued : 

" Old women arc more affected by change of water than 
any one else, and are also apt to have colic while travel- 
ing. You should never have left home without a phial of 

peppermint essence." 

405 




406 "YES, SIR." 

She still refused to reply, and after a time he remarked : 
" "Well, I hope you'll behave yourself and keep out of 
bad company." 

She grabbed up her parcels and crossed the room in a 
hurry, but he did not seem to notice 
her actions. A boy about five years 
old was running around the room, and 
the fat man coaxed the child to his 
knee by displaying an orange, sud- 
denly replaced the orange in his 
pocket, and, lifting the boy up, he said: 
no essence. "You look like a nice boy, and I 

hope you'll get through all right. Look out for pick- 
pockets, my son — I've seen a dozen of the rascals around 
here since I got off the Quincy train." 

The boy sought to release himself, and, as he dropped 
to the floor, the fat man continued : 

" You are not as old as I am, and I want to give you a 
bit of advice : Never bet on another man's game ; 
you're sure to lose if you do." 

The boy ran back to his mother, and the fat man walked 
up to the ticket window and asked : 

" What time does the train leave for Detroit ?" 

" Nine o'clock." 

" That clock is right, isn't it ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" You are sure of it?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" And at nine o'clock by this clock the train starts ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" The Detroit train ?" 

"Yes, sir." 

" Goes right through to Detroit?" 

" Yes, sir." 



AN OLD TRAVELER. 407 

" No change of cars ?" 

" No, sir." 

" Some folks are always behind time, or take the wrong' 
train, or worry themselves into a sweat," remarked the fat 
man, as he came over to me, " but I never have any trouble, 
and I'd like to see the ticket agent who dare sass me!" 

" You are an old traveler, I see," I replied. 

" Old traveler ? — no, I never was away from home 
before — oh, no !" 

And he pulled open his coat, showed me that his breast- 
pocket was tightly pinned up with a darning-needle, and 
then reached down behind his collar and fished up his rail- 
road ticket. 

" I'm a country chicken !" he continued, smiling blandly, 
" and I ought to have a blind man along to take care 
of me !" 

Catching sight of a man whose black clothes and white 
necktie proclaimed him a minister, the fat man crossed 
over and slapped him on the back, and said: 

" Hello ! my friend — going east ?" 

" I am !" exclaimed the startled stranger. 

" Minister of the Gospel, I suppose ?" queried the fat man. 

" Yes." 

" Well, that's a good trade, and I hope you'll do well, 
though just now money is tight and wages are low. I've 
probably traveled ten miles to your one, and my advice to 
you is not to have anything to do with bunko men. You 
may think yourself pretty sharp, but they'll beat you every 
time. Faro is a pretty square game, and poker has charms, 
but let 'em all alone !" 

The minister had not recovered from his astonishment 
when the fat man slid over and sat down beside a young 
lady, whose satchels and bundles were piled up in front of 
her like a line of defense. 



408 



COULD, BUT WOULDN'T. 



"All alone, I suppose V he queried, as he pushed the 
bundles around with his foot. 
" Y — yes," she gasped. 

" I knew it the moment I set eyes on you ; and, if I were 
a mind to, I could pick your pocket, steal your baggage, 
abduct you and carry you off to some unknown island in 

the ocean; but I'm not 
that kind of a man — 
no, sir !" 

She shrank away, a 
frightened look in her 
eyes, and he continued: 
" You need have no 
fear of me. I came 
over here to drop you 
a word or so of advice. 
There's lots of three- 
card-monte men travel- 
ing on these roads, and 
you want to look out 




for 'em. 



It's amazing 



All Alone. 

how they sling those cards around, and if you bet you are 
sure to lose. If I were you I wouldn't have anything to 
do with 'em — -just cut 'em cold !" 

He walked up and down again until he caught sight of 
a portly woman, and he dropped down beside her and 
remarked : 

" Madam, I'm a stranger to you, but I want to give you 
a friendly word of warning. You are fat, madam — very 
fat, and, if you take my advice, you'll never jump off the 
cars while they are running at full speed !" 

She was going to pour out her wrath on him, but he got 
away and went out doors, and I did not see him again 
until just as the passengers were boarding the train. Then 



SOLICITS A LIFT. 



409 



I heard his voice going in the midst of a crowd, and 

elbowed my way in to see him pointing to a great knife- 
wound over his breast-pocket, 
through which his wallet had 
been drawn. He likewise held 
up to view the traveling-bag 
which he had cutely chained to 
the seat. Some one had cut a 
hole in it and removed the con- 
tents. 

As the whistle blew he low- 
ered the satchel, turned around 
and humbly said : 

" Gentlemen, stand clear and 
a warning. let that man with the stoga boots 

come forward and ' lift ' this old traveler — lift him right on 

to the platform I" 





TRUE LOVE. 




SAW tliem — they were going down from 
Saginaw on the boat, and as a swell rocked 
the old steamer the young lady 
screamed out and clawed around 
until she seized the young man's 
arm. 

" Piller yer head right here, 
Susan !" he exclaimed, patting his 
heart with one hand and slipping 
the other around her waist. " When a feller loves a girl 
as I love you, he could take her on his back and swim 
eighteen miles in a bee-line, and then go home and hoe 
corn till sundown ! Piller yer head right here, my love, 
and if she rains and hails and thunders blue blazes, don't 
you even squeal one squeal !" 

" Are we safe ?" she tremblingly inquired. 
" Safe as a cow tied to a brick wall eighteen feet thick, 
my love ! Just lean right over here, shet your pearly eyes, 
and feel as contented as if you sot on the top rail of the 
pastur' fence waitin' for a tin peddler to arrove in sight !" 
She " pillered," and everybody remarked that he looked 
like a hero. 

410 



YE OLD SCHOOLMASTER. 



'M sorry, iioav, that we boys used to vex and worry 
him, for he's been in his grave these many years, and 
perhaps our doings hastened his end. 
I can remember his bald head, gray side-whiskers, 
wrinkled face and cat-like gait. I used to wish that I was 
" as big a man " as schoolmaster Ray, but now I can look 
back and see how drear}- his life must have been, mixed 
up with obstinate scholars, log school-houses, one-horse 
geographies, primary arithmetics, and $11 per month. 




One Way. 

Many and many a time I looked over the top of my 
desk, doubled my fists, and vowed that I would maul him 
to a jelly the very moment I reached man's estate, and he 
secured satisfaction in advance by thinking up and admin- 
istering some new punishment. 

411 



412 



HIS THEORY. 



Schoolmaster Ray argued that pupils couldn't acquire 
an education without having a taste of the sprout now and 
then, and this theory of his kept all the boys' backs and the 
girls' ears sore. He didn't always whip, as that was a poor 
locality for sprouts, and some of us would burn his ferule 
as often as he made one. He had other ways of admin- 
istering punishment, and they were original ways. 

His favorite method, during the warm weather, was to 
throw open the stove door and oblige a boy to enter the 
yawning cavity, sometimes to be shut up there for hours. 
I've sat crooked up in that old stove and registered a 
bloody oath that I would borrow a shot gun and commit 
murder that evening, but when evening came I made up 
my mind to try old Ray once more — -just once. When a 
pupil was too long to get into the stove his legs had to 
protrude over the hearth, and the old man would now and 
then bring his switch down on a calf in order to start a 
new current of thought. 

Another plan of his was to sit a scholar on the floor and 
turn the empty water pail over his 
head. If the lad didn't beg for 
mercy directly, all the spare books 
in school were piled on top of the 
pail. 

I can't look back now and remem- 
ber that we were such bad scholars. 
We used to whisper, take sly bites 
of dinner, skip paper-wads around 
and cut holes in the seats, but I do 
^1=^ not remember that any of the boys 
another way. were malicious. Schoolmaster Ray 

held that boys and girls should be men and women, and 
that it was a crime for a pupil to *be absent-minded. One 
day he explained to the geography class what a peninsula 




IT IS, EII V 



413 



was, told us the name of the longest river, highest moun- 
tain, etc., and also named over the presidents. Next day 
he suddenly asked Alf. Tyler : 

" Which is the highest mountain in the world ?" 

" The gulf of Amazon !" promptly replied Alf. 

" It is, eh ?" sneered the old man as he slid around on 
his heel. 

" Which is the longest river ? 

" Andrew Jackson !" called out Alf. 

Tyler will always remember what followed. The old 
man placed two chairs, stretched Alf. across them, as 
shown in the cut, and piled weights on him until he broke 
the boy nearly in two. 




The Highest Mountain. 

The " big scholars " held a convention on the road home 
and resolved to waylay the schoolmaster and murder him 
in cold blood, but the trouble was to find the one who 
would do the killing. 

I've got scars on me yet which old Ray inflicted because 
I couldn't tell him the difference between a bay and an 
isthmus, and if he were living I sometimes think I would 
hunt him out and spike him to a wall and draw hot curry- 
combs across him. 




UGLY GREG. 



HE best of prisons are gloomy, un- 
lovely places, and the sunshine 
which streams over the walls and 
filters through the bars seems cold 
and cheerless. The prisoners are 
discouraged, and some of them des- 
perate, feeling as if every man's 
hand was against them, and the 
keepers must be watchful, distant 
and determined. Day comes, day goes, and sometimes 
the rugged walls, paved floors and iron bars so change the 
nature of a prisoner that his mind loses all good thoughts. 
It used to be thus in all prisons, but there are exceptions 
now. At the Detroit House of Correction, a year or so 
ago, the high whitewashed walls of the corridors were 
furnished with brackets and flower pots to relieve the 
monotony and take away some of the gloom. One would 
scarcely think that the rough looking, wicked men sent 
there for robbery, burglary, arson and graver crimes, would 
have cared for the change, yet they gladly welcomed it. 
A rose, or geranium, or tulip, or pink, seemed to bring 
liberty and sunshine a little nearer, and to drive the evil 
out of their hearts, and it was a strange sight to see hard- 
ened criminals watering and nourishing the tender plants 
and watching their 'daily growth. 

414 



MORE POWERFUL THAN MAN. 415 

Two or three months before the brackets were hung up 
a prisoner came from one of the Territories — an old, sullen- 
looking, bad tempered man, convicted of robbing the 
mails. They called him " Greg," as short for Gregory, 
and it wasn't long before they made it " Ugly Greg." He 
was ugly. He refused to work, cared nothing for rules 
and regulations, and tw r enty-eight days of his first month 
were spent in the " solitary " for bad behavior. He was 
expostulated with, threatened and punished, but he had a 
will as hard as iron. He hadn't a friend in the prison, and 
the knowledge of it seemed to make him more ugly and 
desperate. When the brackets were hung up there was 
one to spare, and it was placed near the door of Ugly 
Greg's cell until another spot could be found. £To one 
had any hope that the old man's heart could be softened, 
and some said he would dash the flow r er pot to the floor. 

When he came in from the shops his face expressed sur- 
prise at sight of the little green rose bush so close to the 
door of his cell. He scented it, carefully placed it back, 
and it was noticed that the hard lines melted out of his 
face for a time. No one said anything to him, but the 
next morning before he went to work he carefully watered 
the rose, and his eyes lost something of their sullen look. 
Would you believe that the little rose bush proved more 
powerful than all the arguments and threats of the keep- 
ers ? It did, strangely enough. As the days went by the 
old man lost his obstinacy and his gloominess, and ho 
obeyed orders as well and cheerfully as the best man in 
prison. His face took on a new look, his whole bearing 
changed, and the keepers looked at him and wondered if 
he could be the man Greg of tour or five months before. 
He watched the rose as a mother would watch a child, and 
it came to be understood that it was his. While some of 
the other flowers died from want of care, the rose tree 



416 



THE ROSE BLOSSOM. 



grew and thrived and made the old man proud. He carried 
it into his cell at night and replaced it in the morning, and 
sometimes he would talk to it as if it were a human being. 
Its presence opened his lonesome heart and planted good 
seed there, and from the day the bracket was hung up no 
keeper had the least trouble with Ugly Greg. 

A few weeks ago he was taken sick, and when he went 
to the hospital the rose tree went with him, and was placed 
where the warm sun could give it the nourishment it 
needed. After a day or two it was hoped that the old man 
would get better, but he kept sinking and growing feebler. 
So long as his eyes were open he would watch the rose, 
and when he slept he seemed to dream of it. One day 
when the nurse found an opening bud he rejoiced as heartily 
as if his pardon papers had arrived. The bud was larger 
next day, and the rose could be seen bursting through. 
The flower pot was placed on the bed, near the old man's 
face, that he might watch the bud blossom into a rose, and 
he was so quiet that the nurse did not approach him again 
for hours. The warm spring sun glided in through the 
bars and kissed the opening bud, and then fell off in 
showers over the old man's pale face, erasing every line of 
guilt and ugliness which had ever been raised. 

At noon the nurse saw that the rose had blossomed, and 
she went over and whispered in the old man's ear : 

" Greg — Greg — the rose has blossomed — wake up." 




He did not move. She felt his cheek, and it was cold. 
Ugly Greg was dead ! 



ITS MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. 



417 



One hand rested under his gray locks, while the other 
clasped the flower pot, and the new-born rose bent down 
until it almost touched his cold face. His life had gone 
out just when his weeks of weary watching for a blossom 
were to be repaid ; but the rose tree's mission was 
accomplished. 
AA 




OUR BOYS. 




r VEN to this day I sometimes fear to 
indulge in a hearty laugh, or to rip 
out my sentiments of surprise or dis- 
appointment, because my mother was 
continually pounding the idea into me 
that I was born for a preacher. I sup- 
^ pose that I would in due time have 
become a preacher, and had a scandal and a lawsuit, but 
for certain domestic accidents which changed the tenor of 
life all around. 

But I was no exception. There was Jackson ; he was 
continually pegging at his boy Tom, telling the lad that he 
was born for a judge, and there were years and years in 
which Tom did not dare to slide down a cellar door for 
fear that it would interfere with his becoming a judge. If 
he rolled under the currant bushes, climbed a tree or sat 
in the dust, his mother was on hand to call out : 

" My sakes ! Thomas Jackson, but you'll never be a 
judge if you act that way !" 

They mauled that boy to make him look dignified, 
hurled such words as " retainer," " arraign," " nolle prosequi" 
and " champerty" at him, and his young days were made as 
dreary as life on a canal boat in January. At last they 
took him to a lawyer's office, found that he didn't know 
anything, and abused the Lord for not giving him the 

418 



AS THEY TURNED OUT. 



419 



genius of a Patrick Henry. Thomas was driving a mule 
team on the plains when I met him last, and was yelling : 
"Ho! there, Circuit Court, git up and hump yerself! 
Haw around there, Chancery — gee up, Exceptions — git 
around thar', old Decision in Admiralty!" 

And the widow Logan commenced at her boy John as 
soon as he could creep. Some traveling swindler felt of 
his head, told the mother that the boy would be President 
of the United States, and she brought him up to believe 
it. He couldn't go out and tear his pants like other boys ; 
was never allowed to fall into the river and be half drowned; 
had to have his hair combed and his feet washed, and the 
rest of us boys might have offered him $50 and offered in 
vain to get him to keel over on the hay-mow. He never 

got to be President of the Uni- 
ted States. The nearest he 
came to it was bein^ elected 
foreman of a hose company, and 
he didn't hold that place over 
four weeks, as he was too fat to 
run. His mother cried when 
Filmore was nominated, saying 
that her son John had been 
overlooked from sheer jealousy, 
and I believe she grieved her- 
self to death. John now does 
duty in a wholesale grocery 
never keeled Over. house as porter, and his " cabi- 

net " consists of the engineer and the man who 'tends the 
elevator. There are no foreign complications to vex hia 
mind, no one threatens to assassinate him, and he can wear 
one shirt six weeks if he wants to. 

And Mr. Wilkins was always telling his boy that he 
must save his pennies if he would be rich, and making 




420 THE LAST CASE. 

him figure simple and compound interest, and warning 
him to pay out twelve cents for a shilling when he paid 
a debt, and to demand thirteen cents when it was paid 
him. That boy went through life without knowing the 
taste of peanuts, ginger beer, liquorice-root, lemonade, 
candy or figs. Once he was overcome by the sight of some 
spruce gum, and invested a cent, but the licking he 
received when he reached home made him forever sick of 
the sight of gum. He was afraid of wearing out his shoes, 
never sat down in the road, dared not sling his hat around, 
and we used to pity him. 

" Save ! save ! save !" was the father's cry, and the boy 
grew up miserly mean, and was choked to death while 
trying to get a little more meat off a fish-bone. 

I've got a boy or two around my house, and I say to 
them : 

" Come, be doing something ! Roll over in the road, 
wear out your shoes, tear your clothes, hook apples and 
have a good time, for by and by you've got to find out that 
life is a battle of kicks and cuffs, and you'll want pleasant 
memories to strengthen you." 




PROFESSOR OF BOTANY. 




HEN we started out on the Powder 
River expedition, under Colonel 
Kidd, a long-haired, long-geared 
old chap, who had been hanging 
around Laramie for some time, 
got leave to go along. 

He was a Professor of Botany, 
and had once been connected with 
some eastern college. He was, I believe, out west on his 
own account just then, and he was far more enthusiastic 
in his search for specimens than we were to hunt Indians, 
having had our fill of war down on the Potomac. 

I forget the Professor's real name, but the boys called 
him " Old Bot." AVe saw that there was a heap of fun in 
him, and we were glad to have him along. He dressed 
in solemn black, wore a white cravat, spoke slowly and 
with great dignity, and it was " 'nuff to kill a feller " to 
see him cantering along with the column. He couldn't 
ride; it was simply hanging on. His horse was tall, 
shadowy, and as much of a curiosity as his master. His 
gallop was a sort of camel-motion, and when under full 
" go " the Professor held to the pommel of his saddle and 
pounded from side to side and up and down. 

The old man did not know what fear was. The Indians 
hovered around us like bees over a sunflower, but, entirely 

421 



422 GOBBLED. 

unarmed, he would ride almost upon them as his search 
for specimens led him away from the column. One day 
when one of the red-skins put a bullet through Old Bot's 
hat, the Colonel said to him : 

" These devils will get hold of you some day, unless you 
are more careful." 

"Is it possible that they want to get hold of me?" 
inquired the Professor after deep thought. " "What can be 
their primary object?" 

Half a dozen of us were detailed to scout ahead and kill 
meat for the party, and one day the Professor brought 
about a calamity. A score of red-skins had hovered 
around us all the forenoon, the scouts being about two 
miles in advance of the main party. At noon, as we halted 
to rest our horses and bite a few hard-tack, Old Bot 
mounted his horse and rode away after specimens, though 
warned again and again. He wasn't 
half a mile away when a dozen reds 
popped out of a grove of cottonwood 
and gobbled, him, retreating to the 
& grove again. As one man, we 
charged the grove, believing that 
specimens. "" ~ the Indians numbered only twelve 
or fourteen, and feeling ourselves able to whip the pile. 

As we drew near they gave us a volley which emptied 
three saddles, and the other three of us were prisoners 
before the fight had hardly commenced. As I was being 
tied I saw the Professor lying on the grass before me, arms 
fastened behind his back. His face wore its usual profound 
look, and he did not seem in the least frightened or 
interested. 

"I hope you're satisfied now!" I yelled at him. "We 
shall all be burned at the stake, and all through your con- 
founded ignorance and pig-headed obstinacy !" 




A LACK OF COURTESY. 423 

" Is — that — you, cor-pu-rel ?" he drawled, hardly looking 
up. " What special object have these gentlemen in view 
at this time !" 

The Indians hurried us off as fast as they could, fearing 
a rescue. We were tied to our saddles, and when they 
were binding the Professor he said : 

" I assure you, gentlemen, that this precaution on your 
part is entirely thrown away, as there is not the least dan- 
ger of my falling off my horse [" 

Just as we were ready to leave the grove his eye fell 
upon a new specimen, and pointing to it, Old Bot raised 
his voice and inquired : 

"Will any of you people have the kindness to pluck 
that flower for me ?" 

One of the savages brandished his tomahawk in a threat- 
ening manner, and the Professor sank back in his saddle 
and sighed : 

" There seems to be a total lack of courtesy out here in 
this country!" 

It happened that I rode almost beside him as we left the 
grove, and when I had a chance I inquired : 

" Well, Professor, this is a bad affair !" 

He waited two or three minutes and then replied : 

" I cannot speak advisedly at this time, but I assure you 
that I will take the matter into consideration and give 
you my opinion, perhaps this evening!" 

I was provoked, and I said : 

" You are a blamed old idiot, and if I'm roasted I hope 
it won't occur until after you catch it !" 

" I — would — not — speak — rashly !" he drawled, after a 
long pause, and he returned to his work of looking over 
the prairie after new flowers. 

After a ride of twenty miles we halted among the hills 
for the night. The Indians discovered that they had a 



424 IN THE INTEREST OP SCIENCE. 

queer character in Old Bot, and they commenced to draw 
him out as soon as we were unbound. He wore a plug 
hat, sadly used by rain and sun, and one of them knocked 
it " sky-high " with the handle of his tomahawk. The 
Professor looked at him a long time, and then said : 

" I have come among you in the interests of science, and 
I sincerely hope that you will seek to restrain all further 
desire to embarrass and annoy me !" 



Having Fun. 

The red-skins roared with laughter, and one of them 
gave Old Bot a four-horse kick from behind. The old man 
turned around, a look of amazement on his face, and 
inquired : 

" Will you explain the motive which actuated you in 
that performance V 

Another Indian kicked him from the other side, and 
turning to me Old Bot asked : 

" Cor-pu-rel, is not this an unusual proceeding, consid- 
ering all the circumstances ?" 



HE BEGAN TO FEAR. 425 

We had to laugh with the Indians, but as soon as they 
let him alone the old man began plucking flowers and 
naming them. 

We were tied again as the savages made ready for sleep, 
and while securing us one of the Indians kicked the sacred 
plug hat yards high into the air. 

" I cannot commend the spirit which induces such famili- 
arity with total strangers !" drawled the Professor, reaching 
out for the hat. 

Stretched out on the grass, his long hair was a tempta- 
tion not to be resisted, and one of the Indians placed his 
foot on it. 

" My dear sir," said Old Bot, " is it possible that you are 
not aware that I am a Professor of Botany — a regular 
graduate !" 

~We lay side by side, and in whispers I asked him : 

" Professor, what will our fate be, do you think ?" 

" I have not yet given the subject the careful considera- 
tion which it deserves !" was his reply. 

Soon after midnight we were rescued by a party of 
hunters, but the Professor took it as a matter of course, 
remarking : 

" I had almost begun to fear that my researches in the 
interest of science were to be interrupted !" 



THEIR SPELLING BEE. 




tNE evening old Mr. and Mrs. Coffin sat in 
their cozy back parlor, he reading his paper 
and she knitting, while the family cat, 
stretched out under the stove, sighed and 
felt sorry for cats not so well fixed. It was 
a happy, contented household, and there 
was love in his heart as Mr. Coffin put down 
_ the newspaper and remarked : 

" I see that the whole country is becoming 
excited about spelling schools." 

" Well, it's good to know how to spell," 
- -^ replied the wife. " I didn't have the chance 
some girls had, but I pride myself that I can spell almost 
any word that comes along." 

" I'll see about that," he laughed ; " come, now, spell 
buggy." 

"Humph! that's easy — b-u-g-g-y, buggy," she replied. 
" Missed the first time — ha ! ha !" he roared, slapping 
his leg. 

" Not much — that was right." 

" It was, eh ? I'd like to see anybody get two g's in 
buggy, I would." 

" But it is spelled with two g's, and any schoolboy will 
tell you so," she persisted. 

"Well, I know a durn sight better than that!" he 
exclaimed, striking the table with his fist. 

426 



A STORM BREAKS. 



427 



" I don't care what you know !" she squeaked; " I know 
there are two g's in buggy." 

" Do you mean to tell me that I have forgotten how to 
spell ?" he asked. 
" It looks that way." 

" It does, eh ? Well, I want you and all your relations 
to understand that I know more about spelling than the 
whole caboodle of you strung on a wire !" 

" And I want you to understand, Jonathan Coffin, that 
you are an ignorant old blockhead when you don't put two 
g's in the word buggy — yes, you are !" 

" Don't you talk that way to me !" he warned. 
" And don't shake your fist at me !" she replied. 
" Who's shaking his fist?" 
" You were !" 

" That's a lie— an infernal lie !" 

" Don't call me a liar, you old bazaar ! I've put up with 

your meanness for forty years 
past; but don't call me a liar, 
and don't lay a hand on me I" 
" Do you want a divorce ?" 
he shouted, springing up ; "you 
can go now, this minute !" 

" Don't spit in my face — don't 
you dare do it, or I'll make a 
dead man of you !" she warned. 
" I haven't spit in your old 
freckled visage yet, but I may 
if you provoke me further !" 

Not Freckled. " Who's got a freckled face, 

you dilapidated old turkey-buzzard ?" 

That was a little too much. He made a motion as if he 
would strike, and she seized him by the necktie. Then 
he reached out and grabbed her right ear and tried to lift 




428 



AND SCATTERS THINGS. 



her off her feet, but she twisted up on the necktie till his 
tongue ran out. 

" Let go of me, you old fiend !" she screamed. 
" Git down on yer knees and beg my pardon, you old 
wildcat !" he replied. 

They surged and swayed and struggled, and the peace- 
ful cat was struck by the overturning table and had her 
back broken, while the clock fell down and the pictures 
danced around. The woman finally shut her husband's 
air off and flopped him, and as she bumped his head up 
and down on the floor and scattered his gray hairs, she 
shouted : 

" You want to get up another spel- 
ling school with me, don't you ?" 

He was seen limping across the 
yard next day, with a stocking pin- 
ned around his throat, and she had 
court-plaster on her nose and one 
finger tied up. He wore the look of 
a martyr, while she had the bearing 
one "g" in it. f a victor, and from this time out 

" buggy " will be spelled with two g's in that house. 





BARNABY'S BOY AND OLD JACK. 




Oil can never tell what a boy of ten or twelve is 

going to like or dislike, and you need not 

attempt to find a theory for any of his actions. 

One day when a beggar knocked at Barna- 

by's door to ask for old clothes Barnaby's boy 

hit him in the ear with a potato and ran off in 

high glee. The very next day, when another 

beggar opened the gate the boy ran in and 

stole his father's Sunday boots and hurried 

the old alms-asker off with them before 

Mr. Barnaby could get to the door. 

A week after that the Barnaby boy ran 
off with a hand-organ belonging to a crip- 
pled woman, and he and his companions turned the crank 
with such vigor that " Mollie Darling " and " I'm Sleepy 
Now " were worn down to soughs and sighs before the 
organ was restored. You wouldn't think the boy had any 
tenderness in his heart or any respect for the sorrows and 
misfortunes of old age and poverty. His father thrashed 
him for stealing fruit and being out nights, and his mother 
cuffed his ears for his coolness in appropriating the last 
piece of pie and for carrying pickled peaches in his pock- 
et's. And yet that boy developed a trait which more than 
made amends for all his young misdeeds. 

One day as he was preparing to lasso a neighbor's dog, 
along came an old man, having a wooden leg, a blind eye, 

429 



430 HE TURNS GUARDIAN. 

and such ragged garments that it was a wonder how he 
kept the patches and tatters from falling off. The old 
man was weak and ill, and by and by he grasped the 
fence and sank down, unable to proceed another yard. 
Ordinarily, the Barnaby boy would have thrown fire 
crackers at the old man, or put on the penstock hose and 
" washed him out," but just then he was eccentric. Bend- 
ing over the old man he asked : 

" Uncle, are you sick V* 

" I'm dreadfully taken, my lad," replied the old veteran, 
" and I fear I'm going to die !" 

The Barnaby boy's heart opened like a book, and he 
knelt down and chafed the old man's hands, and smoothed 
the scant gray locks back from the damp and wrinkled 
brow. 

" Haven't you any home ?" he asked, tears in his eyes. 

" No home — no money — not a friend on earth !" answered 
the old man. 

" And you are sick ?" 

" I'm going to die, my lad ! I'm old and broken down, 
and all the doctors in the State couldn't keep me alive a 
week !" 

The boy could call the police, and the old man would be 
taken to the hospital or sent to the County House. He 
started around the corner, but turning back he asked : 

" Can you walk down the alley ? May I take care of 
you ?" 

Leaning on the boy's arm, and so blind that he could 
not see the walls and shade trees, the old man managed to 
drag himself down the alley to Barnaby's barn. There 
was no horse there, and the boy made a bed of hay and 
carefully laid the old man down. Then he went to the 
house after food and drink, and his guardianship of the 
dying man had commenced. 



IN THE SHADOWS. 431 

" God bless you, boy ! That's the first mouthful of food 
I've tasted in two days !" said the old man as he ate his 
bread. 

Any boy but the Barnaby boy would have straightway 
informed his parents, or at least the boys of the neighbor- 
hood, that a sick man was in the barn, but he was the 
Barnaby boy and he dropped no hint. The food and drink 
rallied the old man a little, but he felt that his end was at 
hand. 

" I fought Mexicans," he said as the Barnaby boy wet 
his parched his lips, " and I fought Injuns, and this is my 
reward. Old, crippled, ready to die, I'm passing away as 
if I was a wolf instead of a man !" 

The boy had faith that medicine would prolong life, and 
he went to the house and took an inventory of the family 
supply. A bottle of castor oil, another of liniment, and a 
box of pills were all that he could get hold of, and he 
hastened back to the old man. Dying as he was, old 
Jack smiled as the boy held up the things. 

" May the Lord care for you always, my child !" he said, 
" but my hours are numbered. All you can do is to sit by 
me and give me a bit of drink now and then !" 

When night came the Barnaby boy had to leave the old 
man and go in and go to bed, but the house w r as hardly 
still before he dropped from the window and returned to 
watch beside his patient through the long hours of night, 
darkness around him, death beside him. At midnight, 
when the voice of the solemn-sounding bells struck oil* the 
hour, old Jack roused, clasped the boy's hand with tighter 
grip, and whispered : 

" I've been praying God to forgive me, and perhaps I'll 
go to Heaven ! If I do, I'll tell the angels the first thing 
when I get there how kind you have been to me !" 

The old man died hard. Day came, and passed, and the 



432 THE RECORD IN HEAVEN. 

shadows of evening gathered again. The boy hardly left 
him. ~No one came near the barn, and no one suspected 
his secret. 

" My hour has come !" said old Jack as the sun went 
down. " I've nothing to leave you as a reward, but the 
angel will make a long mark for you in the recording book 
for this !" 

The shadows gathered faster and closer, and by and by 
the boy had to bend over the white face to see it at all. 
His tears fell on the wrinkled cheek, and the old man 
reached out his hand, laid it on the boy's head, and 
whispered : 

" Those are the first tears shed over me since I was a 
child and had a mother! I'm going now — I'm blind — 
God bless !" 

The Barnaby boy laid the arms down beside the lifeless 
body, and went quietly to the house. Standing in the 
door he said : 

" Old Jack is dead in the barn !" 

And then he sat down, his courage gone at last, and he 
was the Barnaby boy no longer. 





HIS ONLY ROMANCE. 




A FEW GREAT MEN. 



T is sad to reflect that Henry Clay is dead. He's 
missed a good many chances during the last 
| few years of selling his vote to some steam- 
ship or mining company, and then swearing 
by the horn spoon that he couldn't remember 
fp how he came by that paltry check of $20,000. 
Henry Clay was a great speaker, but when 
it came down to digging a woodchuck out of its hole he 




Clay is Dead 

was a glaring failure. He never raffled for turkeys, attended 
spelling schools or husking bees, and he wouldn't believe 
any of the stories about Captain Kidd's buried treasure. 
The only romantic episode in his life was eating dinner on 
a saw-log with the handsomest girl in school. The girl is 
long since dead, and the saw-log is but a lonesome land- 
mark of time's changes. 

bb 433 



434 



ALSO, WEBSTER. 



I sometimes wonder what he had to live for, and how he 
lived as long as he did. 

Oh, Henry Clay, 
You have passed away — 
We shall ever remember 
The tenth of December. 

Daniel Webster was a king bee in his time. He could 
get up at a moment's notice and speak on any topic, from 
free trade to the best cure for poll-evil. He understood 




First Legal Principles. 



all sorts of law, and even at that early day he held that it 
was a lawyer's duty to get hold of every dollar which his 
client could raise. It was stated in a newspaper paragraph 
last spring that Daniel once gave a boot-black a $1,000 bill 
by mistake for a three-cent silver piece. The boy indig- 
nantly denies the report. He says that Daniel passed a 
wildcat $2 bill on him, which looks entirely reasonable 



AND GENERAL SCOTT. 



43.3 



and natural. Mr. "Webster married, but she was not the 
woman of his choice. He had a fat girl selected for his 
life partner, but four weeks before he was to lead her to 
the altar she was carried to her grave by the bilious colic, 
caused by sitting on the horse-block and eating a rutabaga. 
His marriage was not a happy one, as his wife refused to 
build the fires, and whenever he wanted fried onions for 
dinner she was sure to have noodle-soup. Daniel Webster 
was the man who invented the method of telling a horse's 
age by looking into his mouth, and he discovered that a 
cow had a wrinkle on her horn for every year of her age. 




Early Tactics. 

General Scott was a remarkable man. No cat could 
live in the neighborhood after he got so that he could aim 
a shot-gun. He early displayed those great military tac- 
tics which afterwards made him a famous general. For 
instance, when he was only nine years old he could skir- 
mish down on an orchard as well as a grown man, and 
he could change his base like a streak of lightning when 

During his young man- 



his father made for the boot-jack. 



436 



NOW COMES BOONE. 



hood he wrote several pieces of poetry, only one of which 
can I now recall to mind, viz : 

"Mary had a little lamb, 
Its fleece was white as snow, 
And everywhere that Mary went 
The lamb was sure to go." 

His father intended to have him learn the trade of 
bologna sausage maker, but the boy took such an interest 
in military affairs that he piled up the sausages in the shape 
of a fort, bombarded them with beef bones, and the butcher 
raised the black flag on him. Scott was a very peculiar 
man. He would never sleep three in a bed, and he wouldn't 
hook an umbrella under any circumstances. The General 
never married. He once had all due preparations made, 
but being informed that his intended loved lager he backed 
out, gave her a mule and a one-horse wagon as compensa- 
tion for her broken heart, and made a solemn vow never 
to love again. The only pet he ever had was a one-eyed 
yellow dog, and he would cashier a colonel as quick as 
dust for even winking at the brute. I had forgotten to say 
that General Scott was dead. I have subscribed for about 
one hundred and fifty different monuments for him, and 
he hasn't got one yet. 




Daniel Boone's Birth-Place. 



Daniel Boone discovered Kentucky. He discovered 
Kentucky about the same time the Kentucky Indians dis- 



A RIGHT TO FEEL PROUD. 



437 



covered him. He was a man of great genius. He could 
load a shot gun faster than any other living man, and he 
didn't have to look twice to tell a coon track from a cat 
track. lie was a very early riser. He sometimes got up 
at two o'clock in the morning and ran a mile or two 
through the woods, just for exercise — and to keep the 
Indians from being too familiar with him. Daniel's prin- 
cipal occupation was cutting his name on the beech trees 
of Ohio and Kentucky, and he prided himself on the fact 
that he could spell his name as correctly as any other man 
in America. 




OUR FRENCH ENGRAVER. 



!4W 



I.NE day when this book was in its childhood a stran- 
ger came to me and looked a sad look out of his 
eyes, and his nose, and his mouth — in truth, he was a sad- 
looking man. He spoke with a French accent, and the 
accent went to my heart when he said that he was in the 
middle of strangers, out of money, and hadn't tasted 
raisin cake for over four weeks. 

There were tears in his eyes as he went on to say that 
he had heard of the proposed book, and while he couldn't 
think of begging for money, he would do some grand 
engraving for us at about half what Dore would ask. 

When I see a man feeling sad it makes me feel sad with 
him, and it was arranged that the French designer should 
design and engrave a full-page cut, and I was to write a 
" Heaven piece " to match it. He went away and worked 
and toiled and had alternate fits of enthusiasm and des- 
pondency, and the engraving is before you. We accepted 
and paid for it because we felt a sympathy for the friend- 
less man, and because he assured us that it was engraved 
after the latest French ideas in art. As for the " Heaven 
piece," I wrote the article found on page No. 225, entitled 
"In the Chimney Corner." Observe the cut and notice 
how the old man in the chair holds his hand. The idea 
occurred to me that he had a felon on it, and though the 

438 



NO HAND ORGAN IN HEAVEN. 439 

Frenchman stood on his tip-toes and shouted " By gar ! 
no !" I still held to my private opinion. 

And the boy. Observe that head, and the hand which 
has fallen down. I insisted that his hand had been mashed 
in a corn-sheller, and that his head would take a No. 10 
hat, but the Frenchman refused to believe it. 

There's a roaring fire, as you will observe, and the 
smoke is piling into the room in a way to shame the big 
chimney of a locomotive works. It may be the smoke 
which makes the boy take on such a sickly expression 
around the mouth. Mosquitos couldn't live ten seconds 
in that room. 

You see, the Frenchman's idea was to have the old man 
die in his chair. lie died there, either overcome by indiges- 
tion or the smoke. lie went to Heaven. If you don't 
believe it, look at him in the crowd of angels. There are 
two men-angels sailing around in the smoke, and 3'ou will 
observe that moustaches are allowed up there in the land 
beyond the skies. There are some angels with overcoats 
on, and some with sheets wrapped around them, and the 
old man who died stepped into his store clothes when he 
got above the fire-place. I suggested to the Frenchman to 
make at least one man-angel with top boots on, and a plug 
hat slanted over on his ear, but he called me an infidel. 

As to the music, there is one angel playing on a banjo, 
and another looks around as if in search of a fiddle or 
a snare drum. I wanted a hand organ in there somewhere, 
but the Frenchman informed me that there was no such 
thing as a hand organ in Heaven. 

I spoke to him about the enormous quantity of boards 
and timber used in the construction of the old man's chair, 
but he said there was no danger of exhausting the supply, 
and went down stairs growling about "wooden-heads." 

The Frenchman still lives, lie is a sensitive as well as 



440 



PLEASE GO FOR HIM. 



a sad man. I paid him for the cut, and it is mine, and I 
hope that the newspapers throughout the country will each 
have a " lick " at him. I shall show him each criticism, 
and smile maliciously, and poke him in the ribs, and dance 
up and down and yell at him that his new improved 
French method of engraving has been hoisted higher than 
Mr. Gilderoy's kite. 




! 



THE DARWIN THEORY. 



HAVEN'T looked into the subject as one ought to, 
but Mr. Darwin's theory strikes me as very reason- 
able. It's all theory, of course, and it makes me feel 
sad when I reflect that it may always remain a theory. 

My family traditions are few, owing to the fact that we 
can't get trace of our great great grandfather. Grand- 
father and great grandfather are all right ; we can put our 

hands right on 'em, or rather 
on their records, but beyond 
them the trail is befogged and 
lost. But for Darwin's theory 
I shouldn't entertain the faint- 
est hope of ever solving the 
genealogical mystery. There 
is hope now, every time I 
enter a circus tent, that I may 
run across one of my ances- 
tors. I can't say who my 
great great grandfather was. 
He might have bird with 
perhaps. Wallace, landed witli the Til- 

grim Fathers, or sailed with Columbus, but it's just as 
probable that he was a native of Africa, walked on four 
legs and made it lively for the cocoanuts growing on the 
top branches. If I should ever (ravel in Africa 1 should 

441 




442 



MISSING LINKS. 



look around in the expectation of seeing him out on a 
morning walk, or coming across him up to his elbows in 
business. 

I do not know as any one need feel ashamed of the 
thought that some of his ancestors were gorillas. If a 
gorilla has stamina of character, is public spirited and pro- 
gressive, he is enti- 
tled to respect. If I 
should come across 
the ancestor spoken 
of I should expect to 
find a genial hearted, 
liberal minded old 
chap, with no mania 
for buying lottery 
tickets, no desire for 
political office, and 
no care but to keep 
his character above 
reproach. It would 
be a crushing blow 
for me to find the old 
man in a menagerie, and have the man who explains the 
nature of each resident of a cage speak up and say : 

" Ladies and gentlemen, that 'ere baboon over there is 
as mean as the man who sprinkled turpentine on the 
mince pie so that the children wouldn't injure their digest- 
ive organs. He's sly, malicious, deceitful and revengeful. 
He bit a boy's nose off in London, tore a man's eye out in 
Edinburg, and pulled the Mayor's whiskers in Cork. 
Beware of him ! When you stand close to the cage keep 
a good ways off." 

Neither Mr. Darwin or any one else could blame me, 
but I know I should feel like walking right out of the tent 




Missing Link. 



FAMILY PRIDE. 443 

without stopping to see the sacred cow of India or the 
three-legged goose from Constantinople. I cannot say but 
that my ancestor is tearing around in Africa, cooking up 
a plot to dethrone the king of Dahomey, or getting up a 
"corner" on yams, but I flatly and positively refuse to 
be responsible for any of his bad actions. When the sad 
wind sobs and moans around the gables, and the rain- 
drops patter drearily, the mind will feel an anxiety to 
know if one's ancestor hasn't been turned into the street 
for non-payment of house rent ; if his wood pile is low ; 
if some of his children are not down with the croup, or if 
the plumbers haven't robbed and murdered him in pay- 
ment for soldering up a pin-hole leak in the water pipe. 
It's annoying to live in America and have relatives in 
Africa to worry about, and it cuts one's pride to see lead- 
ing members of the family content to be caged up, carried 
around the country, and have no ambition further than to 
catch the apple cores and " hunks " of gingerbread thrown 
by the town boys. 




ON THE NIGHT BREEZE. 




' one could say who owned that mule. Small 
boys had pelted him with liberal hand, and 
the police had made glorious but unsuc- 
cessful efforts to ensnare his wayward steps 
and turn him over to the pound-master. 
A gray mule, well put together for an 
W^ animal of the kind. The rotundity of 
form which distinguishes the well-fed mule was lacking. 
A bite of grass here and there, an occasional thistle-head, 
a nibble at a passing load of hay, may blunt the edge of 
hunger, but will not produce plumpness nor good nature. 

He had wandered 
from home, this 
mule — started out 
with a desire, per- 
haps, of visiting 
strange towns, 
meeting with strange ad- 
i ventures, and seeing the 
1 world. His owner had 
been left one mule less, 
a wanderer. and mayhap he had dili- 

gently searched, and been patient and hopeful, trusting 
that the wheel of time would turn and return the mourned 
estray. 

Down the street — around the corner — the gas-light play- 

444 




THE FIRST ALARM. 



445 



ing for a moment on his faded coat — and the mule crowded 
close to the fence and peered over with hungry eyes at the 
juicy green grass. Thus have we raised the curtain of fact 
and introduced to orchestra, parquette, boxes and gallery, 
the leading character, playing not the role of the old man, 
but the role of the old mule. 

In the parlor sat the lovers. She was beautiful — he was 
worth five hundred shares of Lake Shore stock, and 
was interested in a bridge contract where there was a 
chance for a splendid grab. He loved, and he trusted that 
she reciprocated. He had come prepared to announce his 
love, and she blushed as she read the fact in his eyes. 
" My dear Isabella," he commenced, as he tenderly 

pressed her soft ringers, " I think you " 

"Gee-haw! gee-haw!" roared the wayward mule, ren- 
dered melancholy by the sight of the bountiful supper just 
beyond his nose. 

The fair Isabella sprang up in alarm, and it was several 

minutes before the en- 
thusiastic young man 
with Lake Shore stock 
could quiet her. 

"It is nothing but 

a mule," he explained, 

as he looked from the 

open window ; and he 

scowled darkly at the 

wanderer, and made 

1 threatening gestures. 

She sat down again, 

and the painful silence 

was at length broken by his grasping her hand and savin-- : 

" I have to-day been analyzing my feelings toward you, 

and I rind that " 




Only a Mule. 



446 NOT A LOST CHILD. 

" O-h ! hoo-haw, gee-haw — gee-haw!" announced the 
homeless, houseless mule, as he caught the scent of roses 
and tulips from the lawn. He saw things as a mule sees 
them — he hungered as mules hunger. 

" It's that beast again !" whispered Lake Shore stock, as 
the fair Isabella uttered a little shriek of alarm. 

He went to the window and ordered the gray-haired 
outcast to move on — to leave that locality without any 
unnecessary delay and secure standing room on the 
common. 

They sat down again. He had something of interest to 
communicate, and she had a curiosity to know what it was. 
Minutes ticked away before he looked into her lustrous 
eyes again. He thought he saw the light of love shining 
brightly, and he stole his arm along the sofa and said : 

" You must have seen — you must know, that I " 

" O-h-h ! gee-gee-ah-ha ! ah-ha!" came a voice from 
beneath the window. It was not the voice of a drifting 
sailor, going down to a dark, deep grave, after a gallant 
struggle for life. It was not the voice of a lost child cry- 
ing out as it stumbled through the darkness, longing for 
the strong arm of a father to enfold it. It was the voice 
of the old gray mule, quavering strangely as hunger 
brought up recollections of corn cribs and timothy hay. 

A smile flitted across her face. The human soul is so 
constructed that one may smile at a victorious, exultant 
champion, or at a downcast, discouraged mule. 

Lake Shore stock approached the window again, and as 
he brandished his fist in the air he warned the intruder to 
dissolve in the dim distance, under penalty of being found 
dead with a severed jugular. 

"When a rubber ball is flattened it will spring back to its 
original shape as soon as the pressure is removed. When 
a lover's declaration has been thrice broken in upon, his 



NOT AN ODIOUS COW. 447 

thoughts are slow in gathering. They sat there and gazed 
at the opposite wall as if waiting for a railroad train, but 
she finally glanced up coyly and lovingly, and softly 
whispered : 

" You were about to say something !" 
" I was," he whispered in return, reaching out for her 
hand. " The public have acknowledged me as your — your 
favored suitor for months past, and this fact has embold- 
ened me to " 

"Hip — hup — haw — ge-haw-ha!" came a voice on the 
night breeze — a voice which halted and gasped and hesita- 
ted as if the owner had risen 
from beside the grave of a loved, 
lost friend. It was not the voice 
of a troubadour warbling notes 
of anguish set in rhyme. It was 
not the voice of a lone night 

Not a Troubadour. "bird calling for its lost mate. It 

was the voice of that same mule calling to the lilac bushes 
to come a little nearer — to come and get a bite. 

" Is that an odious cow ?" she softly inquired. 

" No ; it's a blasted mule !" he exclaimed. 

" Such language, sir !" she said as she rose up. 

" Such a mule, madam !" he replied, pointing to the 
window. " I'll kill the man — the mule — that has dared to 
come between us !" he shouted, and he rushed from the 
mansion. 

He pelted that age-worn mule with lawn ornaments: 
he pelted it with stones picked from the street or found 
alongside the curbstone. 

Halting under a lone tree on the dreary common — gazing 
through the deep shadows of night to discover why pur- 
suit was abandoned, the old gray mule seemed to realize 
that, even as a mule, it was safe to have an accident insur- 




448 



FRIENDLESS AND ALONE. 



ance ticket in his pocket, and he sighed and gasped and 
tremulously soliloquized : 

" Gee-haw — gee-ah — r-rr-raw — ge-haw /" 

And the shadows grew deeper, the night breeze sighed 
with renewed loneliness, the stars nestled behind the 
clouds to sleep, and he felt that he was a mule beloved 
by none. 




THOSE CIRCUS BILLS. 




J/=. 



ETLESS and innocent, she had one in her 

hand as she came up stairs, and she 

didn't say a word until after she had 

wiped her spectacles, placed them on 

£|= her nose, unfolded the bill and read a 

^^ few of the headlines. 

She was quite old-fashioned in look. 
There were strings to her bonnet, she had no bustle, her 
gray hair was combed down smoothly, and there were only 
eleven yards in her black alpaca dress. 

" Young man, don't you know that circuses are awful 
liars and humbugs ?" she finally inquired. 

The man at the table leaned back in his chair and refused 
to express an opinion. 

" Well, I know it," she continued in a positive tone, 
" and I believe they git wuss every day. Now see here — 
listen to this : ' A gorgeous panorama of amazing won- 
ders — a gigantic combination of astonishing acrobatic 
talent.' That's all right on the poster, but hev they got 
'em? I'd like to see one o' them animals." 

" You're laboring under a mistake, madam. It means 
a grand display of natural curiosities, and informs the 
public that the proprietor has secured many first class 
acrobats — the chaps who stand on their heads, turn head 
over heels, and cut up so many monkoy-sl lines." 
cc 449 



450 



IN TRAINING. 



"It does, eh?" she mused; "waal, do you believe it 
takes a smart person to keel over ?" 

" Well, one has to have a good deal of training." 

" They do, eh ?" she remarked, as she put her umbrella 
in the corner and spat on her hands ; " I'll show you that 
you are deceived ! I'm an old woman, but if I can't " 

"Madam, hold on — don't do it!" exclaimed the man 
behind the table. 

" I can flop right over there and never shake my bon- 
net !" she said as she rose up. 




"It Does, Eh?" 

" I know you can, madam, but don't. I am here alone, 
and I — I don't want you to. I'd rather you wouldn't. If 
you are determined on it I shall leave the room !" 

" Well, you know I can do it, and that's enough. You 
may be right about what that means, but see here — hear 
this : ' The highways ablaze with resplendent chariots — 
the grandest pageant on earth.' I've bin to lots o' circuses, 
young man, and I never saw a pageant yet. If they had 
one the door of his cage wasn't open." 



ABOUT AERIAL FLIGHTS. 



451 



"You are also in error there. The bill refers to the 
fact that the great number of wagons, chariots, etc., make 
up a sight worth seeing as they pass along the street." 

" Um-m-m," she muttered as she folded the bill over ; 
" I don't see why they couldn't have said so, then. And 
now see here — read that : ' Sig. Govinoff, in his aerial 
flights.' Now, then, is that a boa constrictor or a cun- 
durango ?" 




'Just Once!' 



" It is a man, madam — one of the performers. His real 
name is probably Jones, but that isn't grand enough, and 
so they put him down as ' Sig. Govinoff.' He is the man 
who jumps off a rope, turns over twice, and comes down 
all right." 

"He is, eh? Well, if he's got an idea that he's the 



452 READY TO ENTERTAIN. 

smartest man alive I want to disappoint him. I never did 
try to turn over twice, but I'll do it right here and now or 
break my neck. Git the things off'n that table !" 

" Stay, madam — don't. I wouldn't have you do it for 
fifty dollars." 

" Just once !" 

" For heaven's sake, madam, get down off'n this table — 
here — here's a dollar if you won't do it !" 

" I don't want your money, and I won't try it if you are 
so scart, but I don't want no circus going around talking 
about aryal flights and deceiving the people !" 

She sat down, the young man wiped the sweat off his 
brow, and presently she remarked : 

" And here's another thing, right here : ' A sparkling 
asterisk, flashing across the field of the cloth of gold — 
Mons. Gomerique, in his great delineations of human 
character.' I'd like to know who she is." 

" Madam, that is a man — a comic man who delineates 
character." 

"How?" 

" Why, he makes up faces — expresses mirth, sorrow, joy, 
and so forth." 

" He does, eh? Well, what's that to blow about ? Makes 
up faces — see here !" 

And she shut her eyes, run her tongue out, and looked 
like the bottom of a brass kettle which had been kicked 
in by an army mule. 

" They are humbugs, sir !" she said as she drew her 
tongue in, " and d'ye s'pose I'd pay fifty cents to go to 
one ?" 

" They are quite entertaining as a general thing." 

" They are, eh ? Entertaining, eh ? Well, if I can't do 
more entertaining in five minutes than a circus can in all 
day I'll leave my bonnet up here ! Here, hold on to this 
chair !" 



GORGEOUSES, ETC. 



453 



" I hain't, eh? 



" Madam, I earnestly hope you are not going to perform 
any tricks." 

You just hold on to the legs of this 
chair !" 

" I can't madam — I wouldn't do 
it for all the diamond pins in Syra- 
cuse ! Go away, madam — go home ! 
I'm in an awful hurry !" 

" Well, I won't, then, hut when I 
say circuses are humbugs I can prove 
it. I don't keer two cents for their 
big words and their panoplies, pag- 
eants, asterisks, giraffes, aryals, gor- 
geouses and ourang-outangs — I can 
beat 'em all holler myself!" 
m » And she took off her spectacles, 
lifted her umbrella, and went down stairs. 





OLD SOL, OF COMPANY B. 




[FTER the first year of the war a good 
many of us wanted to go home. 
We could get together and name 
three hundred and fifty thousand 
weighty reasons why we should 
return to the bosom of our families 
instead of longer biting hard-tack 
. and dodging bullets, but we didn't 
get home. The only way to secure 
a discharge was to get a leg or an arm shot off", or to fall 
sick and hang around until the officers became worn out 
and bored to death. 

The old dead-beats settled down on two favorite tricks. 
One was to eat Government soap until real sickness came, 
and the other to suddenly lose the voice. We had a man 
in company B, who one day made up his mind that he had 
saved the country enough, and he lost his voice. Suspect- 
ing that he was practicing deception, the captain kept Old 
Sol on duty as before, and every man in the company had 
a fling at him. 

However, after two months had passed away and the old 
man had not been tripped up we began to believe that he 
was honest in his assertions. The officers used every arti- 
fice to expose him, but every attempt was a flat failure. 
He was challenged on the sentry line, suddenly roused 

454 



TOO MUCH MULE. 455 

from sleep, confronted with the colonel and savagely- 
talked to, and yet he could not be betrayed into uttering 
a loud sound. He would have been discharged in another 
week if the captain had not discovered a new plan, and 
one that proved successful. 

We were squatted before Yorktown then, two men to a 
tent, and old Sol's partner was out on the picket line one 
day, leaving the voiceless man alone in the tent. A mule 
wandering through the camp stopped near the tent and 
uttered a fearfully loud, long bray. Old Sol rushed out 
and drove the beast away, and the captain, who had seen 
the whole performance, at once struck a plan. 

After a brief hunt he found among the teamsters a mule 
which was warranted to bray two hundred pounds to the 
square inch. A corporal was let into the plan, and when 
night came and old Sol had fallen asleep the mule was 
brought around and tied near his tent, having a lariat 
about twenty feet long. No sooner had the corporal 
skulked away than the beast cocked his ears, rolled up his 
eyes, and screamed out : 

"0! yaw! yaw! yaw! yaw!" 

Old Sol was out of bed in an instant, and though fire- 
wood was scarce he wasted several sticks on the mule, 
which sprang away the length of the lariat and was lost 
in the darkness. The voiceless man got into bed again, 
but in two minutes the mule walked up and pealed out : 

"Yaw! ha! yaw! yaw! s-o-h! yaw!" 

Old Sol threw more wood, the plaguey beast returned, 
and the soldier hadn't crawled under his blanket before 
the fearful bray shook his tent again. This was repeated 
five or six times, and finally as the mule started to improve 
on all previous brays the voiceless man leaped up and 
yelled out : 

"Now dum my buttons if I'll take any more of that! 



456 



OWNED THE CORN. 



I want to go home and see Marier and the children mighty 
bad, but I'll kill that mule if I have to stay here and fight 
the whole durned Confederate army single-handed !" 

Half the men in company B were on their hands and 
knees around the tent, and old Sol couldn't back water. 
He owned up that he'd been playing off, and after that no 
soldier in our division did his duty more cheerfully than 
the old man Sol. 




A LONE HAND. 




NE clay Mrs. Bliss found a euchre 
deck in her boy's pocket, and 
when she took him by the hair 
cv he calmly said : 

"Hold, on mother — it isn't your 
play." 

" I'll play you !" she hissed, 
tightening her grip. " How came you by these cards ?" 

" Mother, you shouldn't trump me this way !" he 
explained. 

" Trumps ! trumps ! what do you know about trumps ?" 
" Why, mother, any fool knows that the right bower 
will take an ace every time." 

" It will, eh ?" she hissed as she walked him around. 
" Of course it will. If diamonds are trumps, for instance, 

and I hold the ace and left bow " 

"Bowers! bowers! I'll bower you to death, young 
man !" she said as she walked him the other way. 

" Or, suppose that spades were trumps, and you held the 
nine spot and king and turned up the ace, what would you 
do ?" he earnestly inquired. 

" Oh, I'll show you what I'd do !" she growled as she 
got in a left-hander on his ear. " I'll teach you a lesson 
you'll never forget!" 

"That wouldn't be according to Hoyle, mother; you 

could pick up the ace and make a point every " 

457 



458 



A LONE HAND. 



"Point! point! Young man, I'll point you so that 
you'll stay sharpened for a hundred years if you don't 
drop such slang!" she screamed as she jumped him over a 
chair. 

"But, mother, you shouldn't stack the cards on me 

this — y 

She wouldn't wait to hear the rest, but drew him over 
her knee and played a lone hand. 



eZPt 




MORAL COURAGE. 




ORAL courage is a big thing. All the 
good papers advise everybody to have 
moral courage. All the almanacs 
wind up with a word about moral 
courage. The Rev. Murray and the 
Rev. Collier and the Rev. Spur- 
geon, and lots of other reverends 
tell their congregations to exhibit moral courage in daily 
life. Moral courage doesn't cost a cent; everybody can 
fill up with it until he can't eat half a dinner after going 
without breatfast. 

" Have the moral courage to discharge a debt while you 
have the money in your pocket," is one of the " moral cour- 
age " paragraphs. 

Mr. Mower read this once, and he determined to act 
upon it. One day his wife handed him five dollars, which 
she had been two years saving, and asked him to bring her 
up a parasol and a pair of gaiters. On the way down he 
met a creditor, and had the moral courage to pay him. 
Returning home, his wife called him 157,000 names, such 
as "fool," "idiot," etc., and then struck him four times in 
the pit of the stomach with a flat iron. After that he 
didn't have as much moral courage as would make a lean- 
ing post for a sick grasshopper, and his wife didn't forgive 
him for thirteen years. 

"Have the courage to tell a man -why you refuse to 
credit him," is another paragraph. That means if you 

459 



460 SOME MORE PARAGRAPHS. 

keep a store, and old Mr. Putty comes in and wants a 
pound of tea charged, you must promptly respond : 

" Mr. Putty, your credit at this store isn't worth the 
powder to blow a mosquito over a tow-string. You are a 
fraud of the first water, Mr. Putty, and I wouldn't trust 
you for a herring's head if herrings were selling at a cent 
a box." 

Mr. Putty will never ask you for credit again, and you 
will have the consciousness of having performed your 
honest duty. 

" In providing an entertainment for your friends, have 
have the courage not to go beyond your means," is another 
paragraph. If your daughter wants a party, and you are 
short, don't be lavish. Borrow some chairs, make a bench 
of a board and two pails, and set out some molasses and 
watermelon, and tell the crowd to gather around the fest- 
ive board and partake. They will appreciate your moral 
courage, if not the banquet. 

" Have the courage to show your respect for honesty," 
is another. That is, if you hear of anybody who picked 
up a five-dollar bill and restored it to its owner, take him 
by the hand and say : " Mr. Rambo, let me compliment 
you on being an honest man. I didn't think it of you, 
and I am agreeably disappointed. I always believed you 
were a liar, a rascal and a thief, and I am glad to find that 
you are neither — shake." 

" Have the courage to speak the truth," is a paragraph 
always in use. I once knew a boy named Peter. One day 
when he was loafing around he heard some men talking 
about old Mr. Hangmoney. Their talk made a deep 
impression on Peter, and he went to the old man and 
spoke the truth. He said : " Mr. Hangmoney, when I was 
up town to-day I heard Baker say you were a regular old 
hedge-hog with a tin ear." 



towboy's experience. 461 

" What !" roared the old gent. 

"And Clevis said that you were meaner than a dead 
dog rolled in tan-bark," continued the truthful lad. 

" You imp — you villain !" roared the old man. 

" And Kingston said that you were a bald-headed, cross- 
eyed, cheating, lying, stealing old skunk under the hen- 
coop !" added the boy. 

Then old Mr. Hangmoney fell upon the truthful Peter, 
and he mopped the floor with him, knocked his heels 
against the wall, tore his collar off*, and put his shoulder 
out of joint, all because that boy had the moral courage 
to tell the truth. 

And there was young Towboy — it was the same with 
him. He had the moral courage to go over to an old maid 
and say : 

" Miss Fallsair, father says he never saw such a withered 
up old Hubbard squash as you are around trying to trap a 
man !" 

" He did, eh ?" mused the old maid, rising up from her 
chair. 

" Yes, and mother says it's a burning shame that you 
call yourself twenty-four when you are forty-seven, and 
she says that your hair-dye costs more than our wood !" 

" She said that, did she ?" murmured the female. 

" Yes, and sister Jane says that if she had such a big 
mouth, such freckles, such big feet and such silly ways, 
she'd want the lightning to strike her." 

And then the old maid picked up the rolling-pin and 
sought the house in which Towboy resided, and she 
knocked down and dragged out until it was a hospital. 
Then Towboy's father mauled him, his mother pounded 
him, and his sister denuded him of half his hair — all 
because he had moral courage in his daily life. 



THE O'LONE INVENTION. 



JHE public are herewith presented with a very faithful 
. wood-cut illustration of a new patent just granted to 

Mrs. Bridget O'Lone, of 
Detroit — a patent in which 
I have a half-interest. No 
one but a woman would 
have invented this machine, 
and the entire credit of the 
invention must be given to 
a female whose opportuni- 
ties of securing an educa- 
tion have been very limited. 
Mrs. O'Lone is a married 
woman, having a husband 
but no children. 

Mr. O'Lone was in the 
habit of putting on his hat 
after supper and remarking 
that he was going to step 
out for just a moment, and 
then she'd see no more of 
him for four hours. She 
argued, coaxed, clubbed 
and entreated, but though 
the motive Power. Mr. O'Lone is a kind-heart- 

ed man he loved to sit on the grocery steps and whittle a 
shingle better than he loved his own hearthstone. 

462 




EXCELLED BY NONE. 463 

After fourteen years of patient waiting and hoping Mrs. 
O'Lone fell upon this invention. The cut fully explains 
the invention up to the window. From that point is a coil 
of rope containing one hundred feet, one end attached to 
the wheel, the other having a stout hook. Mr. O'Lone 
gets up from the table and says he'd like to go down to 
the grocery and hear how the murder trial comes out. 
The hook is fastened to his clothing, the rope paid 
out, and Mrs. O'Leary looks at the clock and warns 
him to be home at nine. He promises, but after he gets 
seated on the head of a sugar barrel the interesting con- 
versation kills time so rapidly that he does not hear the 
clock strike. He is arguing politics or talking about the 
crops, when Mrs. O'Leary steps to the wheel in the kitchen 
and begins to turn. The eifect is wonderful, as the accom- 
panying illustration will plainly 
prove. Mr. O'Lone finds him- 
self hoisted up to the second 
story window of his own vine- 
clad cottage in no time at all, 
and after his wife satisfies her- 
self that he is sober, and doesn't 
its effect. ' feel like raising a row, she draws 

him in. 

I have seen this machine tried on twenty different occa- 
sions, and it worked successfully in every instance. 

It is an invention which must revolutionize the country 
in a short time and bring about a different state of domes- 
tic diciplinc. "Where one of these machines is set up in a 
house the husband will either remain at home altogether, 
or return five minutes ahead of time. He will desert his 
old haunts, glue the knobs on the bureau, get the kindlings 
for morning and draw the water for a big washing without 
a word of complaint. 




464 



MAKES FOLKS HAPPY. 



It works just as well in the case of a boy fourteen or 
fifteen years old. It will bring him home when a police- 
man couldn't stir him a foot. 
He won't come over the alley 
fence and through the wood- 
shed window, but he'll trot 
right along by the shortest 
route, and won't stop to lay 
any plans for the next night. 
Three of these machines 
are in use in Euclid avenue, 
Cleveland ; two on Fort street, 
Detroit; one in Cincinnati, 
and four in Chicago, and 
money couldn't purchase 




There is no more hanging around 



Old Haunts. 

them of the owners 
corner groceries where these machines are in operation- 
no stepping around to Johnson's — no going to the lodge. 
The husband and sons are in bed at nine o'clock, and 
wives and mothers haven't been so happy in seven years. 




JOHN JONES, SICK MAN. 




E was "grunting around" for two or 
three days before he would give up. 
Mrs. Jones advised him to take pills 
or quinine, but he said he guessed he'd 
be all right as soon as the weather 
changed again. On the third morning 
he had a high fever and couldn't stand up. 

Mrs. Jones seemed delighted. He hadn't been sick 
before for thirteen years, and she had a splendid stock of 
herbs and powders and liquids in the pantry. 

"Now, just give right up, John Washington," she 
replied, as he groaned and sighed, and declared that he'd 
get up and go down town as usual if it killed him. 
" There, let me turn your pillow over, hang your clothes 
in the closet, and then I'll run in and make you some 
toast," 

He had to submit. She darkened the bedroom, put a 
clean spread on the bed, and a grand smile covered her 
face as she sailed into the kitchen. 

" Sarah Jane, you go and fan your father with a news- 
paper and keep the flies off'n him while I get the poor 
man something to eat. Your father is a very sick man, 
Sarah Jane, and I can't say that you won't be fatherless 
next week at this time." 

Sarah went in, and Mrs. Jones rushed from the stove to 
the pantry. She toasted four large slices of bread, broke 
dd 465 



466 DOCTORS NO GOOD. 

three eggs into hot water, got down a pint glass of jelly, 
sent for half a pound of crackers, and in about half an 
hour had the sick man's breakfast ready. 

" I don't care what all the doctors in the land say," she 
remarked, as she drew three chairs within his reach and 
loaded them down with the provisions. " I know that 
people can't be sick without something on their stomach." 

He tasted the toast, sipped at the tea, groaned, growled 
and sighed, and she pleaded: 

" Now, John, do try and eat something. I know just 
how you feel, and I know you haven't any appetite, but 
do try." 

" O thunder !" he groaned, as his stomach rebelled 
against the food. 

" Poor man ! poor, dear man !" she sighed, as she placed 
her hand on his head. " John Washington, if you should 
die this would be a sad house. I don't believe I could 
stand up under the blow three weeks, and I know the 
children would give right up !" 

" Hadn't we better have a doctor ?" he inquired, becom- 
ing frightened. 

" Not now, John — not until we see that I can't do you 
any good. I know those doctors to a T. They'd come 
here and dose and dose and make a great bill, and you'd 
probably die just the same." 

She carried out the food, put on a kettle of water, got 
out a clean towel, and as she entered the bedroom with a 
dish of warm water in her hand, she said : 

" Now, then, I must wash your feet and cut your toe- 
nails." 

She sat beside the bed, took his foot in her lap, and that 
sweet smile on her face proved that his illness would be a 
gain to her of a pound of flesh per day. 

" My soul ! but I'm glad I thought to wash your feet," 



A GOOD TIME. 467 

she exclaimed, as she rubbed them with a wet towel. " I 
wouldn't have had any of the neighbors come in and see 
those feet for all we are worth." 

She wanted to scrape the sole with an old case-knife, but 
he wouldn't permit it. She, however, got out the shears, 
and had a good time cutting his toe-nails and digging 
under them. She worked industriously for half an hour, 
and then held the last foot off 1 and looked at it admiringly, 
and said : 

" There ! I'll take my dying oath you've got the clean- 
est feet in this town." 

She took a second look, gave the foot an admiring pat, 
and continued : 

" If this fit of sickness should carry you off, I could 
always look back with pleasure to the fact that your feet 
were bran span clean and as good as new." 

He half admitted that he felt better, and, greatly encour- 
aged, she sent Sarah Jane out to pull some horse-radish 
leaves. These were trimmed, laid on the stove, rolled in 
her hand, and she went back to Mr. Jones and said : 

" Now, then, we'll put on the drafts." 

She put a leaf on the sole of each foot, tied clean cloths 
over them, hunted up clean socks, worried them on over 
the cloths, and, as she tucked the spread down, she asked : 

" Now, John Washington, don't you feel better — a little 
better ?" 

" Oh, I dunno !" he groaned, turning over. 

" You poor man ! How providential for you that you 
have got a wife who knows all about herbs and sick- 
ness." 

She turned over his pillow, put a damp cloth on his fore- 
head, counted his pulse, and whispered : 

" See if you can't catch a little sleep while I go and 
wash the dishes." 



468 MAKES A DISCOVERY. 

When she went out Sarah Jane had her brother "William 
harnessed to a chair, and was driving him round the 
kitchen for her horse. 

" What ! didn't I tell you that your father was danger- 
ously ill ?" exclaimed the mother, as she boxed their ears. 
" It would be a pretty story to go out that you children 
were playing horse when your father lay dying !" 

The children subsided, and as the mother piled the 
dishes together and carefully scraped the crumbs from 
each plate on to a platter, she couldn't help but wonder 
how she would look in crapes. Her husband was well 
known, belonged to the Odd Fellows and a debating soci- 
ety, and of course everybody would turn out to the funeral. 
She would have lots of sympathy, and the head man of 
the Odd Fellows would see that the funeral passed off all 
right. She wouldn't never marry again, of course, though 
it would be hard for her to bring up two small children 
and settle up her husband's business and earn her own 
support. She would be the " Widow Jones," and if she 
smiled at all it must be a faint smile, and if she talked she 
must have a handkerchief ready to wipe the tears from 
her eyes. 

As the last dish was wiped, her revery was broken by a 
howl from William, who had fallen over a log in the back 
yard. 

"What! howling like that when your dear father is 
dying !" she exclaimed, as she shook him right and left. 

He subsided, and she sent Sarah Jane down to the mar- 
ket after some lean mutton to make the invalid a broth. 

" The poor man !" she sighed, as she started for the bed- 
room. She reached it to find him out of bed and dressed 
and ready to go down town. The horse-radish drafts were 
hanging on the bedstead, the pillow was on the floor, and 
the spread — her best — was in a heap under the bed. 



AND SITS DOWN TO WEEP. 469 

" Why, John Washington !" she exclaimed, raising her 
hands. 

" I'm going down town," he replied, in a determined 
voice. 

"And hain't you going to have a fit of sickness ?" 

" No, hanged if I will !" 

And the poor woman sat down and cried. All those 
herbs and powders and liquids must remain on the shelves, 
and she might not have a chance to cut his toe-nails again 
for a whole year. 




M'GRADY'S BASE TRICK. 




f j E hadn't much amusement in 
"Buttermilk Diggings," and days 
when the weather was bad and 
silver mining couldn't be pursued, 
the man who owned a novel could 
lend it at a big price per hour. One night a fire consumed 
several of the shanties, and burned every pack of cards, 
dice-box and scrap of reading in the place. The next 
week nearly finished half the men, and when a man riding 
a small brown mule hove in sight over the ridge one after- 
noon, the pair were greeted with a powerful yell of welcome. 
He was the first stranger who had come our way for four 
months, and the boys took to him at once. 

The man was a quiet sort of fellow named McGrady, 
and the mule had a listless, dreamy look, and a slouchy 
gait. He was a curiosity to some of the men, and atten- 
tion was about equally divided between mule and master. 
Within two hours after reaching the Diggings McGrady 
was taken ill of fever, and for a week we gave him the 
best we had, and took prime care of the mule. The beast 
was as whist as a mouse, never braying a note during the 
whole week, and " Buttermilk Diggings " passed him a 
vote of thanks for his natural modesty and retiring dispo- 
sition. 

470 



SETTING THE TRAP. 471 

"When the man got on his legs again he was very grate- 
ful, and gathering the men around him one noon, he let 
out something to astonish us. He called the mule up, and 
all the mules which ever played tricks in circuses couldn't 
hold a candle to the tricks of that mule. He would rear 
up, lie down, roll over, stand on a harrel, kick up, strike, 
jump, nod his head or shake it, and he acted as if he had 
human brains. When we had recovered from our aston- 
ishment, McGrady confessed that he had come to clean out 
the Diggings with the mule's tricks, hut gratitude had 
caused him to forego his designs. 

It wasn't five minutes before we had put up a job on our 
neighbors in the bend of Duck creek, four miles away. 
They had heaps of silver up there, and the fifty miners 
were puffed up over their luck and wore their hats over 
their left ears. We had been aching for a long while to 
get even with them, and we saw that the chance had come. 
They were a betting set, and they'd go their pile against 
McGrady's mule. 

In about a week we were ready. We got up a grand 
wolf-dinner for Sunday, and invited the whole crowd over. 
They had only caught sight of the mule when they began 
to poke fun at him, calling him the president of Butter- 
milk Diggings and all that, but we bided our time. After 
dinner we began to throw out hints about the mule's cute- 
ness, and he was brought out and made to perform a few 
of the least important tricks. 

The Duck Creek fellows sneered and snickered, declar- 
ing that they had a tame wolf which could beat anything 
like that, and by and by they seized hold of the mule, 
threw him over, and rolled him down hill. McGnuly then 
began to brag about what his mule could do, and lie laid 
out a programme, and we offered to back him. The Dink 
Creek men came to time like a tornado, and offered to bet 



472 AND GETTING CAUGHT. 

us even that the mule couldn't perform even one of the 
dozen tricks on the programme. 

Here was our chance, and every dollar which Buttermilk 
Diggings could turn out was put up. It took a good half 
hour to get the preliminaries settled, and finally we had 
$1,505 up against an equal sum laid down by the Duck 
Creek men. We went around grinning and nudging each 
other, and we felt a bit of pity for the greenhorns from 
the Creek. 

The mule was finally called up. He'd been browsing 
around while we fixed the bets, and he came forward look- 
ing as innocent and unconcerned as a mule could look. 

"As I understand it, Duck Creek bets that this mule 
can't be made to pick up a barrel with his teeth, carry it 
to the door of the fourth shanty, and take my hat off the 
bench and bring it here," said McGrady. 

" That's her — that's the bet," cried the fellows. 

We'd seen the mule go through that performance thirty 
times, and we grinned some more. 

McGrady whispered in the beast's ear, and then pointed 
to the barrel and at the shanty. The mule seized the bar- 
rel, gave it a toss to one side, and started up the creek as 
fast as he could go, and was out of sight in five minutes. 

The Duck Creek fellows yelled until they were hoarse, 
and after they had departed with the money we found 
McGrady had gone with them. It wasn't long before we 
discovered that the Duck Creek chaps had sent him to put 
up the whole thing on us. He had trained the mule to go 
through the tricks or to run away, as occasion demanded, 
and his sickness was all a sham. 

If wolf meat hadn't been unusually plenty that spring, 
Buttermilk Diggings would have been wiped out by starva- 
tion. 

Some of our folks cleaned up their revolvers and hung 



THE BETTER WAY. 



473 



around the Duck Creek camp for the best part of the next 
week, hoping to get a shot at McGrady and to ventilate 
the mule, but the pair slipped away between two days, and 
" Buttermilk " held a mass meeting and 
" Resolved 7 That we be carm and bear up." 




AS THE PIGEON FLIES. 




£>-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z! A monster of iron, 
steel and brass, standing on the 
slim iron rails which shoot away 
from the station for half a mile 
and then lose themselves in the 
green forest. 

Puff-puff! The driving-wheels slowly turn — the mon- 
ster breathes great clouds of steam and seems anxious for 
the race. 

A grizzly-haired engineer looks down from the cab-win- 
dow, while his fireman pulls back the iron door and heaves 
in more wood — more breath and muscle for the grim giant 
of the track. 

The fire roars and crackles — the steam hisses and 
growls — every breath is drawn as fiercely as if the giant 
was burning to revenge an insult. 

Up — up — up ! The pointer on the steam-gauge moves 
faster than the minute-hand on a clock. The breathing 
becomes louder — the hiss rises to a scream — the iron rails 
tremble and quiver. 

474 



FORTY MILES AN HOUR. 475 

" Climb up !" 

It is going to be a race against time and the telegraph. 

" S-s-s-sh !" 

The engineer rose up, looked ahead, glanced at the dial, 
and as his fingers clasped the throttle he asked the station- 
agent : 

" Are you sure that the track is clear?" 

" All clear !" was the answer. 

The throttle feels the pull, the giant utters a fierce 
scream, and we are off, I on the fireman's seat, the fireman 
on the wood. The rails slide under us slowly — faster, and 
the giant screams again and dashes into the forest. 

This isn't fast. The telegraph poles dance past as if not 
over thirty feet apart, and the board fence seems to rise 
from the ground, but it's only thirty-five miles an hour. 

" Wood !" 

The engineer takes his eyes off the track and turns just 
long enough to speak the word to his fireman. The iron 
door swings back, and there is an awful rush and roar of 
flame. The fire-box appears full, but stick after stick is 
dropped into the roaring pit until a quarter of a cord has 
disappeared. 

" This is forty miles an hour !" shouts the fireman in my 
ear as he rubs the moisture from his heated face. 

Yes, this is faster. The fence-posts seem to leap from 
the ground as we dash along, and the telegraph poles bend 
and nod to us. A house — a field — a farm — we get but one 
glance. A dozen houses — a hundred faces — that was a 
station. "We heard a yell from the crowd, but it had 
scarcely reached us before it was drowned in the great roar. 

Nine miles in fourteen minutes — we've lost time ! The 
engineer takes his eyes from the rail, makes a motion to 
his fireman, and the sticks drop into the roaring flames 
again, to make new flames. 



476 FASTER THAN THAT. 

Seven miles of clear track now, and the engineer smiles 
a grim smile as he lets more steam into the giant's lungs. 

Ah ! Not a mile a minute yet, but how we shake from 
side to side — how the tender leaps and bounds ! Is there 
a fence skirting the track ? There is a dark line keeping 
pace with us — it may be a fence. Where are the telegraph 
poles ? Were all those trees falling toward the track as 
we dashed through the bit of forest ? 

A yell — houses — faces — that was another station. Word 
has gone down the line that a " wild " locomotive is rush- 
ing a journalist across the country to catch the lightning 
express on another Road, and the people gather to see us 
dash past. Seven miles in eight and a half minutes — that's 
better, but we must run faster ! 

The finger on the dial creeps slowly up — we want a 
reserve of steam for the last twelve of road — the best track 
of all. 

The noise is deafening — the swaying and bumping is 
terrible. I hang fast to the seat — clutch, cling, and yet it 
seems as if I must be shaken to the floor. 

Every moment there is a scream from the whistle — every 
two or three minutes the engineer makes a gesture which 
calls for the iron door to be opened and the roaring, leap- 
ing flames to be fed anew. 

Houses — faces — a yell ! That was another station. We 
made the last five miles in six minutes. Did you ever ride 
a mile in one minute and twelve seconds ? But we were 
to beat it. 

Like a bird — like an arrow — like a bullet almost, we 
speed forward. Half a dozen men beside the track — sec- 
tion-men with their hand-car. They lift their hats and 
yell, but their voices do not reach us. We pass them as 
lightning flashes through the heavens. That was a farm- 
house. We saw nothing but a white object — a green 



AND YET FASTER. 477 

spot — two or three apple trees where there was a large 
orchard. 

Scream ! 

Hiss! 

Roar ! 

Shake — quiver — bound ! 

We are going to stop — going to halt for an instant at a 
station to see if the track is clear for the rush — for a mile 
a minute, and faster ! 

Scream ! Scream ! 

The station is a mile ahead — it is beside us ! The fire- 
man leaps down with his oil-can — the engineer enters the 
telegraph office. Both are back in fifteen seconds. 

Twelve and a half miles to go — twelve minutes in which 
to make it. 

" We can do it !" said the engineer. " Hold fast now ! 
We have been running — we are going to fly !" 

Scream ! 

" Good-bye !" 

As a mad horse runs — as an arrow is sent — as the car- 
rier-pigeon flies ! Yes, this is a mile a minute ! Fences ? 
No — only a black line, hardly larger than my pencil ! 
Trees? ISTo — only one tree — all merged into one single 
tree, which was out of sight in a flash. Fields ? Yes — 
one broad field, broken for an instant by a highway — a 
gray thread lying on the ground ! 

It is terrible ! If we should leave the rails ! If — but 
don't think of it ! Hold fast ! 

Eight miles in eight minutes, not a second more or less ! 
The lightning travels faster — so does a locomotive ! Four 
and a half miles to go — four minutes to make it ! We 
must run a mile every fifty-three seconds. 

Scream ! 

Sway ! 



478 AS THE LIGHTNINGS FLASH. 

Tremble ! 

"We are making time, but great heavens it is awful — this 
roar, this oscillation ! 

One mile ! 

Two miles ! 

I dare not open my eyes ! I would not look ahead on 
the track for all the gold ever mined ! 

Three miles ! 

Can I ever hear again ? Will I ever get this deafening 
roar out of my ears ? Will the seconds ever go by ? 

Scream ! 

The engineer shuts off steam — the fireman hurrahs — I 
open my eyes — we are at the station ! The lightning 
express is not two seconds away ! 

" I told you !" says the engineer, " and didn't I do it !" 

He did, but he carried three lives in the palm of the 
hand that grasped the throttle. 




SOME SAD THOUGHTS. 




OWEVER the reader may feel, the man 
who wrote this book cannot resist a feel- 
ing of sadness as he sits down to this 
last article. 

There are many sad things con- 
nected with writing and publishing 
a book. For instance, the news- 
papers now and then get after a man and sprinkle his 
January weather with August breezes. The book may be 
a failure in a financial point of view, leaving the author to 
carry a night-mare burden on his back during the rest of 
his natural life. He sees a good many paragraphs, and 
some whole articles, which he knows he could better, but 
the printer won't let him try. 

The author has written this book " between times " — 
sandwiched the work between writing for a dozen publi- 
cations. It has been the means of keeping him home 
nights, and of preventing him from joining Fenian raids, 
expeditions to the Black Hills, or running for office. But 
for this work he could have secured seven or eight hours 
sleep each night, grown fat, preserved a placid expression 
of countenance, and been in a position to criticise the book 
of another. 

Hereafter, the book being in the hands of the public, 
the writer will sadly sit and nibble at his pencil, and think 
and ponder and think, and unless he can secure a job on 

479 



480 



THE LAST DITCH. 



a Congressional report or a dictionary, life's charms will 
slip from him as the boy and his shingle glide down the 
steep to the level. 

If a perusal of the volume saves any family fifteen per 
cent in fuel, ten per cent in clothes, and re-moulds pirates, 
brigands and highway robbers into toil-hardened agricul- 
turists, then its chief object has been accomplished, and 
the writer will stub along through life with a heart full of 
joyfulness. 

The End. 




3^77-9 



